


There You Are

by SweetlyVague



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: AU, Action & Romance, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Constantly Adding Tags, Developing Friendship, Developing Romance, Endless Sass, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, FREQUENTLY UPDATED, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, In Game Quests, Love Triangles, MacCready Being An Ass, NOW EXPLICIT WATCH YOUR EYES, Porn With Plot, Preston Is A Cinnamon Bun, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, Strangers to Friends, Two Stubborn Dummies, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2019-09-05 08:56:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 47
Words: 114,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16807480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetlyVague/pseuds/SweetlyVague
Summary: AU: The Nate/Shaun story line doesn't exist and the Sole Survivor is your average pre-war girl awaking from cryostasis- discovered by MacCready. The Great War happened in a nuclear powered version of modern times, and she wakes to a world she wasn't made for. With the help of her new friends, she hopes she can piece together the mystery of her past and learn to survive a world gone mad- not to mention some very powerful enemies.Slow burn MacCready/F Sole Survivor. Other minor relationships and feels here and there.**I love and appreciate feedback!**





	1. A Woman Out Of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone!
> 
> I've been playing Fallout 4 again recently and got the itch to write a story after some ideas started swirling around in my head. I've always been a little bitter at the lack of real choice in your character’s backstory and how you're mostly forced to follow the storyline if you wanted to realistically roleplay- so this is my take on a Fallout 4 world without the search for Shaun. Plus, I've got the hugest crush on MacCready and wanted to try my hand at a romance story involving him. 
> 
> I'm being as lore friendly as possible with some added twists and I'll be writing the canon character as in character as I can!
> 
> Please forgive spelling or grammatical errors I miss when editing! I don’t have a proper word program so I write on WordPad haha.

_Manual override initiated. Cryogenic stasis suspended._

For the vault dweller there was nothing and then there was light.

The metal capsule she'd been encased in opened with a hiss and she immediately gasped for air, her eyes snapping open and staring upwards at the near blinding florecent lights. Everything was so grey. She realized suddenly how cold she was, her entire body shaking uncontrollably as her arms wrapped around herself. Why was it so damn cold in there? Her gaze trailed down and she locked eyes with someone standing there in front of her. Blue eyes, maybe green? She couldn't tell under the terrible lighting. If she wasn't mistaken, those eyes looked just as shocked as she felt. 

"Holy sh-.. crap.." Was the last thing she heard before everything faded again, the image of the man in brown and green pulling farther and farther away, his arms reaching for her.

There was nothing again- for awhile, anyways.

"Hey...ugh, come on... HEY!" She shot upright from her laying postion on the floor, the voice bringing her back from unconsciousness with a start. Everything seemed so bright and her eyes took a moment to focus, unable to make out much of anything but colours until they slowly sharpened. She wasn't in the capsule anymore, that was for sure, and beyond that she was clueless. 

"Are you alright?" The man crouched next to her asked, leaning in to peer at her a little closer. Blinking up at him, she met those eyes again and recognized that whoever he was, he was definitely the same figure she saw when she'd first woken in that freezing tube.

"Okay, now you're just being weird about it." He stood up, extending a hand down to her, "Come on, let's at least get you up."

Nodding curtly, she reached up and grabbed his hand, noting how rough his palm felt and how small her hand felt in comparison to his. He pulled her up to her feet in a single pull and she stumbled forward. Her legs almost collapsed beneath her and she grabbed for the window sill to her right. The sill was so warm. Momentarily, she felt relief from the sensation- it was so different from the unbearable chill she felt when she first woke. She tilted her head up towards the sun, relishing in the heat. Letting out a long breath, she felt balanced enough to take a look around where she stood. That relief she felt? Gone. They were in a room that looked like it had seen much better days- parts of the walls missing, flooring peeled away, piles of debris scattered in the corners. 

"Where..?" She turned to the man and stepped back quickly, her back towards the open window, "Where are we?"

He seemed to pick up on her sudden fear, raising his hands up with his palms out to her, "Hey, hey. It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you." Looking at her intently, as if to catch every one of her movements, he took a long stride back, "See?"

Unwilling to move away from the window, she looked him up and down, assessing him and her situation. He had brown hair tucked under what she figured was a military cap and was clad in a long brown jacket overtop some sort of military green outfit. Her eyes trailed further down and she looked ready to climb out the window, "Why do you have bullets strapped to you?!"

His eyes dropped instantly to the bullets in question and he sighed as if he had forgotten they were there, "They're for my rifle?" he said to her as if it were obvious, adding, "They're not for you if that makes you feel any better?"

He had his answer when she turned quickly and all but jumped out the ground level window, struggling to make it out and back on to her feet. She had to get away. She didn't know why, but she had to. Her legs were barely cooperating and she was thrilled when she managed to make it to a staggering run. She was heading down the street of some kind of suburb- one that looked as if a tornado blew through it. The grass was dead, most of the houses she could see were practically demolished, and the cars were... why were they so rusted? 

Her thoughts were cut off as she screamed, the mans arms wrapping tightly around her from behind, stopping her run dead. She couldn't move her arms at all because he had them pinned to her sides so she buckled her legs to try and throw him off balance. He didn't budge whatsoever and her legs kicked around- he was surprisingly strong.

"Will you stop?!" He grunted, refusing to relinquish his hold. There was a long breath and he said slower, softer, "Please, just stop. Calm down. Let me explain. Please."

The girl's attempts at escaping slowed and he carefully released her from his hold. There was something in his voice that made her want to believe he didn't mean her any harm. And at this point- if he was going to kill her, he was going to kill her. Hesitating for a long moment, she turned around to face him. She tugged at the sleeves of the blue jumpsuit she wore, taking a breath and looking up at the man. He was a good bit taller than her 5 foot 3 frame, his expression shadowed from the sunshine behind him. She wasn't certain but she thought she saw him flash a small grin as he spoke, "We good?"

"You wanted to explain? Please do." She was attempting to look less terrified than she was, her arms crossing over her chest.

"Alright.." He said, his tone ever so exasperated, "Look. The names MacCready and I found you down there in that vault stuffed in a fridge. I don't think anybody else down there survived. Figured I was doing you a favour by not leaving you in that graveyard."

MacCready continued, but she stopped hearing what he was saying. Her mind started going a mile a minute, trying to understand what he'd just said to her. Vault? Survived? Graveyard? Nothing he said made any sense.

His voice continued, whatever he was talking about coming to a close, "...so, what's your story? Why were you in there?"

Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, she tried to speak from her mouth that had gone instantly dry, "I..." She closed her eyes hard and tried with all her might to pick up anything from the darkness in her mind, "I don't know."

MacCready's brow furrowed, "Alright. Let's start small. What's your name?"

She suppressed the urge to cry, looking up at him as if praying he had the answers she needed, "I don't know."


	2. Not In Kansas Anymore

MacCready handed the girl a can of purified water as he walked by, leaving her to her thoughts while he returned to his rucksack to remove the last of the contents they'd found up the road at Sanctuary Hills. She was nervous leaving the safety of their camp, but equally anxious to take a look around and stretch her legs. They'd returned just before the noonday heat was at its worst and she planted herself in her usual spot on the floor with her back against a wall, feeling dejected at her second, more thorough look at the state of things. Lowering himself to the floor across from her, MacCready added a few boxes of ammo to the pile between them, as well as some assorted cans of food.

"I'm surprised there was this much ammo up there. It doesn't seem like anyone's been there for awhile." He said this while digging around his pocket for a cigarette, popping it between his lips and lighting it with his new found flip lighter. 

She nodded in agreement, "Not surprised; 90% of it didn't seem livable."

He chuckled and exhaled smoke without removing the cigarette from his mouth, even managing to speak, "You think? Boy, you're gonna be fu-.. really shocked to see where people bunker down."

They'd been staying at the Red Rocket truck stop for the better part of a week while the girl tried to get her bearings. It was probably strange dealing with somebody who had zero clue about the world around her, but he was patient with her. If anything, she was grateful that he had so much to teach her because without a single memory of anything before she awoke, it's not like they had a lot of back and forth discovering to do about one another. MacCready didn't seem pressed to say much about himself other than the bare minimum. He'd told her, rather carefully on the day he found her, that he was a mercenary for hire and it was clear he didn't want to scare her any more than she already was with that news. "Explains the bullets, though, right?" he had said with a grin, which prompted a small laugh from her.

The girl wrinkled her nose at the thought of the living conditions of the wasteland, the stomach turning mental images cut off as a cold nose touched the side of her face, followed by a few laps of a rough tongue. The dog, who they creatively named Dogmeat, licked her face a few more times and then stretched out next to her. Dogmeat had come wandering out of the truck stop as MacReady and her approached without even a trace of aggression. It was clear he no longer had an owner and she had decided right there that he was staying with them. She thought to herself that she was clearly an animal lover and considered that one win for her search of who she was. Unfortunately, it was the only moment of clarity she had since she'd entered this new and strange world. 

When she tentatively asked why everything was so... dreary, MacCready briefly explained to her how the "Great War" had caused the end of humanity as it was known a long time ago- long enough that not a lot of people could really tell you exactly what had happened. As far as he knew, the vaults were created as shelters from the inevitable war and that there were generations of people who had lived without ever leaving the safety of their underground bunkers. Others weren't so lucky and were stuck in the wasteland, born and raised, to fend for themselves. She'd gotten overwhelmed by the information and he left it at that. She decided that she'd ask for all the details eventually, but for now she couldn't quite wrap her head around everything that was happening. First she woke up in a frozen tube, then she had the heavy realization that she had no idea who she was, and as if that wasn't bad enough it was followed by the bombshell that the world had basically ended at some point. 

Scratching the top of Dogmeat's head, she suddenly had a thought, "The vault- do you think we can go back down there?"

MacCready looked perplexed, grinding the last of his cigarette on the floor, "Why would you want to? It was depressing as heck."

She shrugged, "I don't know who I am- but what we both know is that I was frozen by ummm Vault-Tec? I don't know why they did it or how I got there..." her voice trailed while she put together her thoughts, "Maybe they have files? You said there were a lot of people down there- they had to have kept track of them, right?"

"Huh." Her companion nodded, "It's worth a look. From what I saw when I was in there digging around for scrap, most if not all of the terminals were pretty messed up. They might have paper copies for backup?"

It was decided- he would escort her back after they had lunch. Although their canine companion whined as if to argue while they readied themselves to leave, she reassured Dogmeat that they'd be back soon. 

MacCready generally had a sarcastic, light hearted way of speaking, but as they were stepping off the property line of the Red Rocket, he glanced back at her and said seriously, "Stay close behind me, alright? If I say duck, duck. If I say run, run." When she nodded, he nodded back and took his rifle off his back, holding it across his pelvis at the ready. She knew that he'd only grazed the surface about the wasteland and she wondered just how much worse it could be out there if he was wandering around with a high powered gun.

The girl knew she'd find out eventually- but she didn't know if she wanted to.


	3. Q.L.H

Depressing "as heck" didn't cover it.

Peeking out from behind MacCready, the girl glanced around the vault and frowned. Maybe the folks who stayed in vaults their whole life weren't as lucky as she assumed. Most everything was made of buffed metal, the only colours she noted being muted blues, burnt orange and sometimes a muddy green. She had no other description of the space other than "eerie". Even with people roaming around and something to fill the silence, she couldn't imagine the vault ever feeling like home. 

Skeletons were littered around the vault like rag dolls- some were wearing the same jumpsuit as her, while others were wearing lab coats and their splayed corpses set some disturbing scenes. One skeleton still had an arm outstretched towards a handgun on the floor just out of its reach, another was hanging over a desk with a very clear bullet hole through the back of its head. Her stomach was knotted, but she wondered why she didn't feel more scared. Maybe it was because it all still seemed too outlandish to be real. 

"There's a few rooms we can search through that I remember seeing filing cabinets in." MacCready spoke above a whisper, and below his usual volume, eyes forward and practically unblinking, "I only had to deal with a few roaches before I found you. In the grand scheme that ain't so bad, but they can still be deadly. Stay on your toes."

"Roaches...?" She started to inquire about what he could possibly mean when he said roaches could be deadly and her words got caught in her throat. The skittering noise came first, and then she saw an impossibly large cockroach squeeze itself out from under a collapsed desk and beeline directly to them. She tugged hard at the back of MacCready's jacket and he turned his head to look at the insect coming at them. Fluidly, he turned around and used his arm to move her back behind him. In the same motion, he used his other arm to bring down the butt of his rifle directly onto the shell of the Radroach. She had placed herself directly behind him so she didn't have to see what happened, but she definitely heard it. A disgusting crack followed by a shrill shriek.

Not wanting to see the aftermath, she turned around and waited for MacCready to take the lead again, "Giant roaches? What the hell?"

Their search of the rooms he'd mentioned was relatively fruitless aside from some more ammo, a Stimpak and another handgun that MacCready grabbed and holstered, "I'm gonna have to teach you to use one of these- but for now just stick close. I don't need an accidental bullet to the back of the head." His comment was met with her giving him the side eye, knowing she had no idea now to use a gun but still feeling a little insulted.

Sighing, she leaned against a cabinet while trying to rack her brain for another solution. There had to be at least something in the vault to give her at least one goddamn answer. MacCready closed a desk drawer and mirrored her sigh, "Nothing."

Determination rose up in the girl's chest and she stormed out of the office they were in; if she didn't do this fast she would lose her nerve. MacCready spun around and followed after her , "Hey! What are you doing?"

She'd gotten to a speed just below a run, following the signs bolted to the walls to lead her to the one place she was certain she didn't want to be in the vault. The sounds of her companion's boots behind her helped her feel less scared, but her heart was racing. 

Just a bit further.

Her speed didn't help her cross the threshold of the doorway she came to, her feet stopping without her even thinking about it. Looking into the room gave her chills, her stomach knotting worse as she looked at the two rows of identical pods that lined the walls of the room. She didn't have any recollection of this place away from knowing that this was where she woke and yet she felt sick looking at it. Grief was the closest emotion she could name to describe how she felt. 

MacCready said nothing and let her take her time entering the room- one little step at a time. She looked into one of the pods and raised her hand to her mouth in shock. In that moment she realized what he had meant when he said that nobody else had survived- and he wasn't talking about the skeletons. Hurrying down the corridor, she saw that every single pod had someone in it. Bodies slumped, hands clutching at throats... they were all frozen in their last moments. She touched her shaking hand against the cold glass, her eyes brimming with tears. Why did any of this happen? Why would Vault-Tec do this?

"Quinn."

Using the back of her hands to wipe at her eyes, she turned to look at MacCready. He was holding a clipboard attached to the side of some sort of lever by the empty pod and repeated, "Quinn." 

Her heart jumped in her chest and she quickly moved over to him, her eyes scanning the page on the clipboard. Most of the ink of the sheet had bled, more information than not entirely illegible.

**Date of Cryo(illegible)sis: October 23, 20(illegible)**  
**Tes(illegible) Subject's Age: 21**  
**Test (illegible)ect's Medi(illegible)**  
**Test Subje(illegible)al Name: Quinn Lee Hardin**

She took the clipboard from MacCready's hands and stared at it for God knows how long. Quinn Lee H. It didn't ring a bell to her, but that didn't matter. All that mattered to her was that she had a name. She was someone, anyone. 

Barely containing the urge to cry, Quinn looked up at MacCready who was leaning against a pod with his arms casually crossed, what was becoming his trademark grin on his face, "Nice to meet you, Quinn."


	4. An Amazing Display

"Nice shot. You're improving quick."

Quinn opened her left eye, no longer focusing down the shooting range MacCready had set up for her along a metal barrier, lowering the 10mm handgun he'd given her. There had been six miscellaneous bottles and cans he'd arranged for her to practice on, each one now scattered on the ground with new holes in them. It took her eight shots to take down the six targets and she felt a wave of pride at her accomplishment. 

MacCready stood up from the rickety chair he was spectating from, flicking his spent cigarette to the ground, "Safety on. I'm still not entirely sure you're not gonna accidently shoot me with that thing."

"If you keep it up it's not gonna be an accident." Quinn snapped back sarcastically, sliding the safety on and holstering the gun to her thigh. Her companion chuckled and walked back into the Red Rocket- probably to continue meticulously clean his rifle. 

Walking over to her fallen targets, she climbed over the barrier and stared out at the endless expanse in front of her. She knew there was a lot more out there than Sanctuary Hills and Red Rocket, and as each day passed she was a little more ready to experience it first hand. It had surprised her how easy it felt to sink into this new life she woke to and she figured not having a past to remember or cling to helped that along. She wanted to know who she was, she wasn't going to stop trying, but for now she had a name and two reliable friends. That worked for her. 

As if he knew she was thinking of him, Dogmeat planted himself next to her, raising his head up to brush against her hand in a request for attention. Quinn smiled down at him and scratched the scruff of his neck.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by gunfire in the distance, a flock of crows scattering from the skyline of Concord below. There was rapid fire interrupted frequently by the sound of something Quinn could only describe as heavy bass. Dogmeat barked and bolted into the direction of the sounds and she ran after him without a second thought. She nearly took a tumble over a cluster of rocks, her feet clumsily managing to find footing as she continued down the decline, Dogmeat determined to follow the noise. No matter how fast she tried to run, she couldn't catch up to him enough to try and stop him.  
"You've got to be kidding me." MacCready's voice suddenly came from her right, running next to her with his rifle up. The sound of the firefight was almost at a deafening level and although Quinn knew she wasn't making a good decision, she wouldn't even consider letting one of the only comforting things she had run off into the unknown. 

Dogmeat rounded a corner and she followed suit, skidding to a stop at what lay ahead of her. Raiders lined the streets, shooting up at a man returning fire from a balcony. She'd yet to see a raider from her roost at Red Rocket, but from MacCready's description of them- there was no mistaking what they were. She knew there was no chance they were getting away without drawing attention to themselves when Dogmeat lunged at the back of one of the raiders, tearing at his neck viciously. 

"Get down!" MacCready shouted at her before turning his attention back to the raiders. He dropped to one knee and brought the rifle's scope to his eye, immediately firing round after round without even a moments hesitation between shooting and reloading.

Within minutes, everything had fallen silent. There wasn't a single living raider left on the pavement, each with either a bullet hole in them, a terrible burning wound on them or pieces ripped from their bodies. MacCready, the man above and Dogmeat made short work of them and Quinn inwardly chastised herself for not only getting them into a terrible situation, but for being useless during it.

Dogmeat barked in the distance and Quinn hurried down the street after the dog when a desperate voice came down to her, "Hey up here- on the balcony! I've got a group of settlers inside! The raiders are almost through the door. Help us- *please*!"

MacCready walked up beside her and looked at her as the man disappeared behind the balcony doors, shaking his head, "You're gonna get yourself killed in there. Don't even think about it."

"He needs help! We can't just walk away." Quinn looked at him, the idea of the people inside being left for dead distressing her enough to make her feel nauseous. 

"I could- easy." MacCready responded flatly. He looked down at her, clearly unimpressed but surprising her by heading towards the door of the building, "I can't leave you out here in the open. Stay *right* behind me the entire time. Do. Not. Run. Off."

He pulled the door open and Dogmeat quickly darted in. MacCready followed with his rifle raised and she stepped behind him- trying to will bravery from herself. 

The ordeal had proven difficult for the mercenary, as he tried his best to not only take out the group of raiders spread out amongst the museum, but to keep Quinn from taking a bullet. He made her quite aware of this as he muttered about how ridiculous it was that they were in there, saying something about wasted ammo.

They'd made it up to the room where the settlers and the mystery man were holed up, discovering that it was a group of displaced Quincy residents lead by a Minuteman, Preston Garvey. With some convincing from both Preston and Quinn, MacCready agreed to help them a bit further- using a suit of Power Armour and a minigun to clear out the last of the raiders below. He'd told Quinn to stay behind and she waited for him with Dogmeat in the museum's lobby while Preston returned to the balcony to offer support from above. 

Mindlessly running her hands over Dogmeat's fur, Quinn listened to the sounds of the battle outside. The whirring of the minigun made her feel comforted, knowing that it meant MacCready was doing okay out there. She wasn't sure how long she waited for him, but eventually he came through the door, still wearing the Power Armour. Not that she was any kind of exper by a long shot, but the armour looked like it had seen better days with panels of metal bent back and some parts missing entirely. 

Preston and the others had made their way down to the lobby, the Minuteman looking impressed, "That was... a pretty amazing display."

After offering his thanks, Preston and the others made their way off- insisting MacCready and Quinn join them up at Sanctuary Hills where they planned to settle. Quinn didn't hate the idea of having more people to hang around with, safety in numbers and all that, but she looked over to MacCready who looked less than enthused while climbing out of the Power Armour. 

"Quinn," He started in on her, speaking firmer than she'd heard yet, "Why are you trying so hard to get yourself killed?"

"What? I'm not."

He slung his rifle over his back once again, his tone not relenting, "You would have been long dead in this hell hole if I weren't here."

She blinked, at a loss of words momentarily, "I.. well.. Thank you."

"I don't need you to thank me, I need you to fu-..fricken be careful." MacCready looked at her intently, "The wasteland isn't a place to play the hero. That's how you get killed."  
Feeling her own anger start to bubble, Quinn's voice rose, "I can't leave people to die if I can help it- something you're apparently more than fine with!"

MacCready still didn't back off, only sounding more angry with her, "I ought to stuff you back into that fridge, Quinn. You're not cut out for this world."

"I'm sorry that I give a shit!" She could feel her cheeks getting hotter, her eyes beginning to water despite her best efforts to stop them, "I'm not you, okay? I'm not some heartless gun for hire!"

"You can't be serious," he said as he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth as if to stop himself from continuing. Shaking his head, he spoke anyways, "You're not me? You barely know me. And who are you kidding? You don't even know yourself."

The look on his face showed that he regretted what he had said immediately and before he could take it back, Quinn turned on her heels and stormed towards the door.

"Quinn." He started after her, but she ignored him entirely.

She yanked one of the double doors open, looking back at him briefly before heading out of the threshold, Dogmeat following behind her dutifully.

**BANG.**

With the unmistakable sound of gunfire, Quinn was blown off her feet, hitting the wooden floor with a sickening thud.


	5. Welcome To Diamond City

Quinn had never felt anything like this before. Well, not that she was aware of. 

The bullet hit her and her vision exploded into white spots, sharp and excruciating pain suddenly radiating from her left shoulder. Everything that followed was a blur; her mind was too preoccupied with trying not to fall into shock. The only thing she recognized before she was lifted off the floor and being rushed down the street was the distinct sound of MacCready's rifle. 

"This is why you stay solo." He'd mumbled in annoyance. She'd wanted to retort, but instead everything went dark. 

When she came to again, MacCready was kneeling in front of her and digging through his rucksack. The pain she felt was still unbearable, but her vision was clear and her brain far less fogged. MacCready pulled a Stimpak from the depths of the bag, holding her left arm still and stabbing the syringe into her shoulder. Quinn shrieked in pain- but then that was it. Before her voice could die down, all the discomfort she'd felt was gone.

Touching where she'd been shot, all she felt was the warm stickiness of blood over scarred tissue and a hole in her jumpsuit. The bullet hole was gone. Blinking a few times, she looked at MacCready questioningly.

"Stimpak. One stop healing." He said simply and she nodded, not having the energy to ask any questions about how that was even possible.

Quinn rolled her shoulder, noticing that it was a little stiff but thankful it no longer contained a bullet. MacCready seemed to notice her mild discomfort, "Should be good by morning. Get some rest," he wiped her blood from his hands onto his pants and added, "We're leaving in the morning. You're gonna need some armour before you get yourself shot again."

They walked for hours the following day, sticking to the roads as much as they could with Dogmeat following after them. Quinn had a lot to take in while they made their way to Diamond City, feeling a heaviness in her heart to see just how bad it was out there. MacCready had been practically silent the entire time, the only noise he made being a whistle to reel in the curious dog, or to signal for Quinn to stop or find cover while he scouted an area. 

"Hold up," He'd whisper, moving ahead of her to scan the road ahead, sometimes using the binoculars attached to his belt to check further down. 

It had to have been mid afternoon by the time they reached the Diamond City gates, MacCready's insistence on taking the "safer way around" adding a few hours to their trek.  
Arriving at the front gates, they stopped to watch a woman in red yelling at an intercom.

"You open this gate right now, Danny Sullivan! I live here. You can't just lock me out!" She sighed sharply and turned her attention to the trio, waving them in closer, "You. You want into Diamond City, right? Play along."

Before MacCready or Quinn could reply, she turned back to the intercom, "What's that? You said you're a trader up from Quincy? You have enough supplies to keep the general store stocked for a whole month. Huh. You hear that, Danny? You gonna open the gate and let us in? Or are you gonna be the one talking to crazy Myrna about losing out on all this supply?"

A man's voice came from the intercom, "Geez, alright! No need to make it personal, Piper. Give me a minute."

The massive gate began to rise and Quinn stared up at it in awe. With how bleak their hike to the city was, she'd never have assumed there was anything like this left. 

Piper waved them in again, "Better head inside quick before Danny catches on to the bluff."

Quinn looked at MacCready and he shrugged, looking exhausted from the exchange he had to witness. They followed after Piper and were greeted with another heated conversation- this time between her and the Mayor. 

"Is that a statement, Mr. McDonough? Tyrant mayor shuts down the press!" Piper motioned towards Quinn and MacCready, both of them awkwardly standing there while the fight continued, "Why don't we ask the newcomers? You support the news? Cuz the Mayor's threatening to throw free speech into the dumpster!"

Quinn had no idea what to say, but MacCready piped up, "Freedom of the press? That's a pretty outdated concept if you ask me. Who even cares anymore?" 

Clearly not impressed with his lack of support, Piper turned back to McDonough. With them both distracted, MacCready motioned for Quinn to head towards Diamond City's entrance and she was happy to stop awkwardly spectating whatever was going on.

"Well, that was... a lot." Quinn said as they made their way down the steps and she was rewarded with a brief snort of laughter from MacCready.

Piper walked by them, taking a long look at Quinn, "Hm. Why don't you stop by my office sometime? I think I just found my next story."

MacCready looked incredulously after the woman, "I think she just hit on you."

Quinn smacked the mercenary on his shoulder and gave him a push to keep him going down the stairs. He complied, laughing the whole way down.

"Come on- I've got something you're gonna love." MacCready said, leading her to the center of Diamond City Market. 

After a fun, albeit confusing conversation with Takahashi the Protectron, they sat in silence at the bar eating hot bowls of noodles. Her companion was right about her loving the food; it beat the hell out of grilled mystery meat and cans of beans. Dogmeat pawed at her feet for some scraps and Quinn pulled a noodle from her bowl, dangling it above him. He jumped up and chomped on it happily, sitting back down and looking up at her for more. 

"Oh man, Takahashi, can I get another?" MacCready drank the last of the broth from his bowl, trading it out for the other the robot handed to him.

They ate in silence, Quinn taking in the bustle of the market surrounding them. There was a great feeling of comfort seeing so many other people doing familar things- eating, shopping, laughing together over God knows what. It almost felt normal.

"Here." She snapped out of her observant daydream, turning her head and looking at MacCready. He was holding a Nuka Cola out to her and she took it with a tentative smile. They were speaking again, but she could still feel a cloud hanging above them.

Taking a long swig from his own bottle of Nuka Cola, he cleared his throat, staring idly ahead of himself, "I didn't mean what I said."

Quinn nodded, feeling relieved from his words. She had been so angry at him, but after a long silent walk to the city, she realized that he had every reason to be pissed off at her.

"I know," she took a wary sip of her Nuka Cola, pleased that it tasted great, "I didn't mean what I said, either."

He set down his drink, nodding his head, "I know."

And just like that- the cloud was gone. 

MacCready seemed uncomfortable during their exchange, and Quinn noted that he probably wasn't big on saying sorry. Trying to move the conversation along, she added, "I should go visit my new girlfriend at some point while we're here."

Nearly spitting out his mouthful of soda, MacCready broke into laughter. Happy with his reaction, Quinn returned to finishing her noodles.


	6. The Synthetic Truth

Quinn adjusted the leather chest piece she was trying on until it was snug, looking over to MacCready for his opinion.

"Honey," Becky Fallon spoke up from behind her counter, "Men don't know squat about fashion or functionality."

MacCready scoffed and went back to reading a copy of Publick Occurences they'd picked up, having found a comfortable spot to sit where he'd offer his thoughts on Becky's armour selection. The shopkeeper was standoffish when they'd first entered (something Quinn assumed she'd have to get used to traveling with the mercenary) until he set down a bag of caps on her counter. After that, Quinn had her own personal shopper.

"The leather armour set will work perfectly," Becky said, giving a nod of approval, "It's lightweight enough for your small frame, but it'll keep you relatively safe beyond the wall. That doesn't mean you should be racing to greet bullets, though. Are you happy with your other selection?"

Quinn looked into the dirty mirror to make sure she'd made a good choice. MacCready was picking up the tab which meant she needed to be confident in the outfit; there was no way she was going to let him drop that kind of money on her again. She'd picked out a white t-shirt along with some faded blue jeans, opting away from the Converse sneakers that were recommended to her and going for a pair of black combat boots instead. The light colour palette of the outfit made her dyed red hair look even brighter- something Becky had mentioned when Quinn emerged from behind the changing partition. Whether it was a compliment or not, she had no idea. 

At the top of the shop's outer stairs, Quinn leaned in and gave Dogmeat a kiss on the top of his head for waiting so patiently for them. She was about to thank MacCready again for his help in getting her better equipped when she realized that something was happening in front of Power Noodles. 

Weapons were drawn on all sides. A man was frantically aiming a gun in the face of another, and the Diamond City security team were surrounding them with assault rifles ready. The whole marketplace had gone silent and the citizens watched with bated breaths.

The frenzied man inched closer, the gun almost pressed to the forehead of his intended target, "He's a synth! He'll kill us all!"

"Mac.." Quinn started, but the sound of a single gunshot interrupted her. Everyone ducked instinctively, gasps peppered throughout the crowd. The assailant hit the ground, blood pooling where his head should have been. 

A guard lowered his smoking rifle, addressing the crowd gruffly, "Alright, the shows over. There are no synths in Diamond City, do you hear me? You folks and your damn paranoia."

Quinn hadn't realized that she'd stopped breathing, both of her hands pressed over her mouth. The marketplace had somehow returned to exactly how it was before, leaving the man there staring at the ever expanding pool of blood. Quinn edged by one of the guards, kneeling down next to the man, putting her hand on his shoulder, "Hey.."

He looked up at her with red eyes, tears streaming down his face, "He.. he pulled a gun on me. My own brother."

Quinn frowned, trying to focus on the man rather than the gory scene that laid at their feet, "What happened?"

"I'm.. I'm not a synth. I told him. I kept telling him. Why didn't he listen to me?"

The situation finally made sense to her, Quinn's hands balling into fists. The sadness she felt quickly rose into anger. She stood up and walked back to MacCready who was looking at her curiously, snatching the copy of the paper from his hand and turning back around. 

She'd thrown the front door of Publick Occurrences open, coming close to hitting Piper with it as she was on her way out, "Whoa! Hey- what happened out there?" she asked, tucking a pad of paper into her jacket pocket and a pencil behind her ear.

Quinn raised "The Synthetic Truth" issue of the paper to the journalist's face, "This is what happened."

Piper took a step back in surprise at Quinn's sudden motion, looking confused, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your article is getting people killed is what I mean," Quinn tossed the paper down at Piper's feet, "People are turning on one another- some guy just about killed his brother because he thought he was a synth. Oh, and that guy? He doesn't have a head anymore because security blew it off."

Piper kept opening her mouth to speak, but nothing was coming out. At first she seemed ready to defend herself and it slowly turned into her looking genuinely upset the longer Quinn went on.

"I hope your paper sales are worth it, asshole. That guy dying is on you- and anyone else who dies or gets hurt because of your fear mongering bullshit."

Quinn didn't bother to let Piper reply, turning back around and returning to the street. MacCready was sitting on a bench just outside the door, taking a long drag of a cigarette, "I think you need a drink."

They were a few beers in at the Dugout Inn, choosing to sit at the outdoor booth to enjoy the warm night when MacCready seemed to deem it safe to bring up the incident, "The Institute and their synths are no joke, ya know."

"I get that," she stopped momentarily, as if to debate that answer, "I mean I guess I get it as much as I can since I'm not from here. Anyways. That doesn't change the fact that Piper is needlessly causing a lot of shit. The least she could do is actually investigate all of this instead of putting a bunch of hypotheticals out there. If the Institute is such a big deal, you'd think she'd want to handle news about them properly."

MacCready polished off his fourth beer, leaning back in the booth, "You're not wrong."

"I just.." Her voice trailed while she tried to gather her thoughts, the alcohol definitely taking effect at this point, "I know you think it's weak but I guess I care a lot about people. I can't be alright with leaving someone to their death who needs help. I can't say nothing when people are being hurt and it's senseless or avoidable. Isn't it rough enough out here?"

"I don't think it's weak. I think it can be foolish." MacCready opened two more bottles of beer on the edge of the table, handing her one, "Being selfless out here means you die. You have to watch out for your own a-.. butt because nobody else is going to."

"I'm watching yours, though." Quinn said, throwing a bottle cap at MacCready's head when he winked at her reply, "Oh, shut up, pervert. I'm being serious."

That grin of his resurfaced, his cheeks tinged pink from his beers, "Correction: nobody who knows how to use a gun properly is going to."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "I'm sorry I'm not accustomed to this post-apocalyptic hellscape."

"You'll get used to it." MacCready said to her as if it were gospel, swallowing back more than half of his drink.

"Mhm... hey, hold on. You say all this about only watching your own ass as if you're not here babysitting some girl who fell out of a fridge. Not only have you fed me and clothed me, you were my literal shield back at the museum."

MacCready laughed at her description of herself, shrugging his shoulders without offering her a reply. 

Quinn was really starting to feel those beers, slouching back in the booth. The world she'd woken up to grew stranger by the minute and she was having a hard time keeping up completely. She thought she had a grasp while they stayed at the Red Rocket, but it was easy for her to see now that she had been naïve. Taking a bullet was pretty eye opening. Watching a man die in the streets and everyone going back about their business was disturbing. She couldn't remember a damn thing about herself or her life and yet she could feel it in her bones that everything in the Commonwealth was... wrong.


	7. Hawthorne

The next two weeks in Diamond City were uneventful, the settlement no longer buzzing about the incident at the market. Quinn had spent most of the first week exploring the city and getting to know its inhabitants while MacCready took odd jobs that frequently whisked him out into the wasteland. It wasn't long before Quinn's previous suspicions about her companion's reputation were confirmed- mostly, anyways. She had been right assuming there would be tepid or downright cold responses regarding her traveling with the mercenary, but the more she heard the more she noticed that he was either a villain or a hero in the eyes of the people who knew of him. 

"I don't blame most people for not trusting mercenaries. Because of those bastard Gunners," Hawthorne stopped to growl in disgust at the name, "we're mostly known not to discriminate what we're paid to do- if we're paid well enough."

Quinn shifted, the ratty couch she sat on in the Dugout Inn digging a spring into her ankle as she sat cross legged with her hands gripping the toes of her boots, listening to Hawthorne in awe. She had heard him talking about his escapades in the Commonwealth with his voice nearing theatrical levels, hands motioning to assist in telling his stories. Vaults, monsters and ruins oh my. He'd waved her over, inquiring if she was MacCready's new partner. Hawthorne must have been a fan; he immediately offered her a beer and a seat.

"The Gunners?" she inquired, tilting her head curiously and leaning forward to grab her beer from the table.

Hawthorne gave her a strange look, "Man, you must really not be from around here."

Quinn laughed into the bottle she held, nodding her head, "Yeah, definitely not." 

"The Gunners are pretty much mercenaries with the caps and numbers to be a military organization. Think Brotherhood of Steel but instead of self-righteous pricks, they're just pricks with zero moral code."

Resisting the urge to look more clueless by asking who the Brotherhood of Steel were, Quinn took a long guzzle of her beer, "And what's your moral code, Hawthorne?"

He laughed, the sound boisterous, "Honestly? On paper, not much different than the Gunners. I guess that's not a great look for me, huh?"

Quinn set her empty bottle back on to the table, "I'm not sure. What's different?" MacCready had proven to be a decent person, she hoped Hawthorne was the same.

His tone had become a bit more serious, setting his bottle down across from hers, "I don't kill for fun. The Gunners lack any kind of heart- or soul for that matter. Most are recruited from raider gangs which should say a lot. MacCready's probably one of the few who weren't.."

Quinn blinked and Hawthorne cleared his throat uncomfortably, "...which I guess you didn't know. Shit."

There was a long silence between them, neither knowing what to say before he cleared his throat again, "He's not with them anymore, though. Obviously."

"There you are." A familiar voice came from the entrance and both of them looked over to see MacCready and his grin walking across the room and dropping down on the couch next to Hawthorne.

The almost unbearably uncomfortable air still lingered and MacCready looked from Hawthorne to Quinn and back again. Quinn's mind was going a mile a minute, having a hard time processing that her companion was once the scourge of the wasteland. He was a bit of an asshole, she had to admit, but he'd done nothing but help her since he'd found her. 

Hawthorne and her had an immediate and silent agreement to not let MacCready in on what they were discussing and he gave his friend a firm pat on the back, "Hey, man. Long time no see. What brings you to the great green jewel? Ain't Goodneighbor more your scene?"

MacCready leaned his rifle against the table by his feet, taking off his hat and brushing back his disheveled hair, "You know how it is. Gotta keep moving if you want to keep working."

"I guess I can't argue that," Hawthorne slid one of the many beers he'd purchased over to MacCready, "Drink up; you've got catching up to do."

Quinn laughed as MacCready obnoxiously sang Hawthorne praises, "Awwww, for me? You shouldn't have!" He popped the cap off, chugging back the warm beer in a way only spending the day in the hot sun could make a person. 

"Oh- before I forget, " MacCready said after catching his breath, his empty bottle clinking on the table, "On the topic of presents, I got a few things while I was out there."

Dogmeat stirred from his doze, hearing the sound of MacCready digging through his bag, getting up and sniffing around it with his tail wagging fiercely. Chuckling, MacCready gave the dog a good pet, "Yeah, yeah, I got something for you, bud."

Quinn grinned, clapping her hands together at the sight of Dogmeat wearing the red bandana MacCready secured around his neck. The dog obviously couldn't speak, though his playful bark told them he liked his new accessory. 

"And for you," MacCready was holding a large, crumpled paper bag out to her. Quinn's grin widened and she took it from him, tearing the bag open excitedly.

Into her lap fell an assortment of pre-war junk food: chips, snack cakes, hard candies, the bag had it all. She dug through it like a child on Christmas, stopping to grab one of the chocolate bars. 

Holding up the Coffee Crisp as if admiring it, she said, "This is my favourite."

Her and MacCready looked at one another, both understanding how important that small detail was, "This is my favourite! This is my favourite!" Quinn waved the chocolate bar around, MacCready reaching over to fist bump her free hand from across the table.

Hawthorne was looking at the both of them as if they'd grown extra heads, "We got a sugar enthusiast or something?"

MacCready looked away from Quinn's beaming face, nodding at Hawthorne in mock seriousness, "Yes. It's bad. She's an addict and all I do is support her bad habits. If only I had the strength to stop, Thorne, " he wiped at his face, ridding himself of fake tears.

"Thanks, Mac." Quinn smiled at him before staring back down at the chocolate bar. She had a name and she had a chocolate bar. That was something, right? She wrapped the treats back up, watching the two mercenaries banter back and forth. Hawthorne had mentioned an old friend of theirs who accidently got addicted to Mentats. 

"He sounded like a living dictionary," MacCready laughed between sips of beer, "He'd try to hit on chicks at The Third Rail and they'd have no idea what he was saying. Remember when that one girl poured her drink on him to get him to shut up?"

Quinn thought about what Hawthorne said about MacCready and his past with the Gunners. It both surprised and scared her initially, but everything laid out in front of her helped her decide that it didn't matter. He was the guy who saved her from being an eternal popscicle, or worse, meeting the same fate as the other people in their pods. The guy who held patience for seemingly nothing, but never once got frustrated with her constant questions or lack of understanding the things around her. Hell, he was the guy who went out for a day of work likely dodging bullets and he actually thought to bring back things for her and the dog he didn't want to admit he had grown attached to.

MacCready glanced away from Hawthorne momentarily to look over at her. She was already looking with a smile on her face. He wasn't a killer. Not a cold-blooded one, at least. 

Maybe in this world that made _all_ the difference.


	8. Trial By Fire

"What's Goodneighbor like?" Quinn stepped over a crack in the pavement, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. It was only mid-morning and it was hotter than any heat she'd experienced yet in the Commonwealth. She already missed the shaded spots of Diamond City.

MacCready didn't answer at first and she could practically hear the gears turning in his head, "Well. It's a bit rough and tumble."

"It's a place that _you_ consider "rough and tumble"?" she said astonished, not so certain anymore that she wanted to go there. Diamond City had gotten boring for MacCready and he was confident that he'd made enough caps for them to comfortably leave and hit the road again. She found some comfort in how predictable the little city had gotten- her companion felt the opposite. He was the type who felt better on the move.

He flashed her a grin, "Don't you worry. They know me well there. Plus, I'm good friends with the mayor. We won't have any problems."

Dogmeat bounded ahead of them, weaving around piles of rust that had once been vehicles. MacCready said they were going to head north until they hit the water with the intention of following the water line east and coming back down to Goodneighbor. He was always insistent they avoided the dense areas, saying that Super Mutants and raiders were rarely more than a stones throw away. Quinn hadn't seen a Super Mutant yet and from what she heard she'd be fine with keeping it that way.

Popping a piece of candy into her mouth from the hoard MacCready had given her, Quinn returned her hand to rest on the holstered 10mm on her thigh. She'd had extensive target practice in the junkyard just outside of Diamond City, her aim good enough to impress the mercenary. 

"You're good, but never get too comfortable, " he'd said to her while they walked back to the city from her last practice, "Moving targets are a lot harder. The goal is to be able to aim like that when you've got bullets coming your way. It can get hectic out here."

MacCready was always honest with her about life in the wasteland and it was something she appreciated- not to say it didn't scare her. Better scared than unprepared was what she told herself. She'd hoped to one day be as prepared as MacCready always was.

"How old are you?" Quinn asked out of the blue, her mind having traveled back to the fun fact that he'd once been a Gunner. Working for a paramilitary organization and having the reputation he had across the Commonwealth made it difficult for her to pinpoint how old she thought he was. 

He exhaled a long cloud of smoke, "Twenty-two."

His answer surprised her. She didn't assume he was out of his twenties, but she never would have guessed he was just barely in them, "Really? I thought you were older than that."

"Huh. Why's that?"

"Well.." she wasn't sure how to word what she was thinking without getting grief from him, "Something tells me I won't find many people with more gun knowledge than you. Apparently you're the best sniper in the Commonwealth AND the Capital Wasteland. Aside from having some kinda reputation, I guess you're just not built like any twenty-two year old I can think of."

Momentarily Quinn's mind trailed off, finding it both strange and irritating that there was so much she _could_ remember like how twenty-two year olds were supposed to look but she didn't know her own birthday. When she came out of her thought, MacCready was looking at her mischievously, "So you've been checking me out, huh?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, knowing that was exactly the type of response she was going to get from him, "I'm trading you in for a different friend."

"But will he be as handsome as me?" he asked her mock seriously.

"What I was trying to say is that wasteland life must be tough for you guys because you look old as fuck," she jumped to the left just out of his reach to avoid him shoving her, laughing.

MacCready shook his head, supressing his own laugh, "Whatever. We both know I'm beautiful."

Quinn handed him a piece of candy as a peace offering and they continued on in comfortable silence. 

Their trek following the water had been relatively uneventful, the openness of the strip not inviting trouble out. The only other people they'd seen were a strange group settled by an outdoor theater and though they didn't look hostile, they both agreed to avoid them anyways. Something felt weird about them. 

"My bet is cult," MacCready said with a chuckle, then tilting his head to the right towards stairs that led to an alley. They were about to start weaving into the streets again, the mercenary putting a finger to his lips to signal her to be as quiet as she could. 

He readied his rifle and she followed his lead, un-holstering her handgun. Dogmeat seemed to understand that it was time to lay low, his ears pinned back, his steps slower and more careful. Quinn was already overwhelmed by the city streets, feeling as if there were too many places for something bad to come from. 

Quinn didn't hear anything, but MacCready halted momentarily before they rounded a building, "Safety off, I think we have company." 

As if he'd summoned them himself, a pack of ghouls stumbled out from a small gated area. She froze and waited behind MacCready, hoping he'd have some instruction on what they were going to do. Slowly, very slowly, he crouched down. She did the same, her heartbeat so loud in her ears she was terrified they would hear it.

"Don't... move.." MacCready whispered so softly she barely heard it. Dogmeat had lowered himself to the ground with his hind legs at the ready for him to pounce.

The ghouls wandered aimlessly, their legs looking like they shouldn't be able to support them. They reminded Quinn of a group of extremely drunk people. Most of them had moved out of sight down another street and she thought they were in the clear. She could almost breathe again.

"Shit." MacCready hissed out the first swear she'd ever heard from him, the straggling ghoul turning in their direction. It unleashed a horrible sound before it fell back, a bullet planted right between its eyes. MacCready was already loading another round when the rest of the group returned, running down the street towards them.

"Run!" He was up on his feet, reaching back and grabbing her arm as he bolted, dragging her along faster than her feet could go. Catching her footing in the nick of time, she tightened her grip on her gun and dared to look back. The ghouls were maybe half a block behind them, running at a speed that was impossibly quick.

MacCready started up a hill of debris blocking the street, letting go of her arm just long enough to sling his rifle to his back and unholster his handgun. Grabbing her hand, they continued up, both of them trying their damndest to keep their footing on the precarious pile of rubble. Loose pieces of concrete kept slipping under her feet and she was praying she wasn't going to face plant.

They reached the top of the hill and Quinn could see fluorescent lights ahead signalling they were close to Goodneighbor. Just as she felt a moment of relief, the both of them turned their heads to see a ghoul catapulting itself at the duo. It slammed between them, their clasped hands forced apart.

"Mac!" Quinn screamed as they were both sent reeling back in opposite directions. MacCready tried to get hold of her hand again, but it was too late for that; they were both sent over opposite sides of the peak. It took everything in her to keep hold of her gun while she crashed down the hill, the sound of debris landing next to her when she hit the pavement. 

Shakily, Quinn moved up to her hands and knees, the vision in her left eye strange. She rubbed her eye and pulled back her hand when she touched sticky warmth- her forehead was bleeding. Looking up the hill she came down from, her stomach dropped. Three ghouls were coming down at her, that awful shriek coming from their mouths.

She was back on her feet and aiming upwards at them, everything she had been taught swirling through her head. This wasn't how she was dying. No way. Holding her breath, she closed her left eye.

**BANG. BANG. BANG.**

Two of the ghouls dropped and slid down the hill as dead weight, but she'd gone high with her final shot. The third lunged at her, ready to tear her apart. She didn't have to think about it, her reflexes kicking in as she pulled the trigger. The ghoul slammed into her and she hit the ground painfully, it's full weight on top of her. Lucky for her, it was dead, a new smoking hole in its forehead.

"Mac!" She yelled after her partner, shoving the dead creature off of her. Ignoring the aches all over her body, she ran back up the hill and looked down the side he'd fallen. MacCready was sprawled out at the bottom face down, Dogmeat sitting next to him and whining up at her. The telltale limbs scattered around them told Quinn that their trusty hound had done a good job and she desperately hoped he'd done the job as quick as he'd done good.

Stumbling down, Quinn quickly knelt beside MacCready and rolled him over. A gash on his cheek and a bloody nose. The ghouls hadn't managed to get to him from what she could see. She gave Dogmeat a quick, appreciative scratch, "Good boy- make sure nothing sneaks up on me, okay?"

Quinn's attention back to MacCready, she grabbed his shoulders and gave him a shake. He stirred, but he didn't wake. Taking a breath to keep herself calm, she ignored the tears forming in her eyes and how much her hands were shaking, pulling his bag on to her lap. Opening up a can of purified water, she poured it onto MacCready's face.

"What the..!" He woke suddenly, wiping at his face furiously before he noticed her kneeling next to him, ".. frick."

His expression changed from confused and angry to concern, sitting up and analyzing her, "Quinn, are you okay? I saw you fall."

She couldn't help but smile, laughing as she wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, "I think I should be asking you that."

They both stood up, MacCready gathering his weapons and bag while Quinn called Dogmeat back over from his dutiful patrol for enemies, holstering her gun. She turned around and almost walked into MacCready, "Jesus- sorry." 

"Seriously, are you okay?" He was focused on the wound on her head, cringing at however it looked.

Quinn had completely forgotten she was bleeding in her brief panic, touching the wound with a wince, "I'm fine. I'm pretty sure every inch of my body hurts but otherwise, I'm totally fine."

MacCready nodded and wiped the blood from his nose, using a tired head tilt towards the fluorescent lights down the street to signal it was time to go. Quinn followed after him, the calm after everything letting her realize how much pain she was actually in. He looked back at her, his expression also strained. The curl of his lips told her he was about to say something sarcastic, but instead he raised his right arm and waved her in, wrapping it around her shoulders, "Good to see you didn't die. Let me be your crutch for your troubles."

Quinn put her arm around his waist, both of them trying to help support the other, "I killed three ghouls while you were napping over there."

"Huh. Maybe you're cut out for this hell hole, after all," They both chuckled, leaning on one another as they limped towards Goodneighbor, Dogmeat following close behind.


	9. Just A Fool

"I've never had a headache this bad in my entire life," Quinn set her elbows down on the coffee table, resting her chin in her hands. She sat on the floor with her legs crossed, a bottle of vodka resting on her lap.

MacCready was holding a beer against the goose egg hidden under his hair, the drink far from cold but the glass just cool enough to provide some relief, "Your life as you know it has been, what? Four weeks?"

"You're making my point for me," She chuckled and raised the bottle to her lips, "The only other major headache I've dealt with is you."

MacCready shot her a look, "Ha-ha. Hilarious."

They'd stumbled into Goodneighbor ten hours prior, MacCready directing them to Hotel Rexford where he mentioned he had a long term rental as a favour from the mayor. He exchanged a few nods and waves with people in the lobby, leading Quinn up to the top floor. MacCready's room was a lot like she expected- liquor bottles of varying fullness on the dresser, beer bottles on the coffee table and comic books piled next to the bed.

He dropped his bag on the floor, setting his rifle down next to a worn armchair, "Take your armour off."

Quinn turned her head to look at him, assuming she'd heard him wrong, "What?"

MacCready was peeling off his jacket carefully, grimacing at the aches and pains. He laughed and shook his head, "I need to see if you've got any Stimpak level injuries. I wanna look at that head wound, too."

It was a chore removing her armour pieces, her body protesting every movement she made. She placed them all on top of the dresser along with her holster, having a seat on the edge of the bed as MacCready instructed. He knelt in front of her and used his hands to encompass the circumference of her arm, applying pressure on and off until he reached her finger tips. Gently, he repeated the same steps for her other arm and then her legs, apologizing when she'd flinch or yelp. Quinn observed how gentle he was, watching his every move attentively. He paid no mind to her stare, seeming solely focused on making sure she hadn't gotten injured too badly. 

"No major limb damage, I'd say." He asked her to stand as he did, holding her left shoulder while he pressed his palm against her stomach. MacCready inched his hand up to her right ribs and she recoiled, hissing in pain, "Sh-.. shoot! Sorry."

"Ow.." Quinn pouted, placing a protective hand over the sore spot.

MacCready shooed her hand away, grabbing the hem of her t-shirt and raising it enough to take a look at her bare ribs, "Oh yeah, that's bruised. How does it feel to breathe?"

As if she'd forgotten, Quinn took in a deep breath, wincing, "It kind of hurts."

"Kind of means not broken. Good." He motioned for her to sit again, turning to his dresser and picking through his collection of liquor, "Stimpaks are for major wounds so I can't do much for you. I'm pretty sure your ribs are only bruised- you'll be fine in not too long."

He turned back to her, a bottle of vodka in one hand and a blue bandana in the other, "Now I have to disinfect that dent of yours."

Quinn scowled at him, "My head is _not_ dented!"

He grinned at her, soaking the bandana with the vodka, "Disinfecting it will clean it real good, but it won't buff out the dent."

She kicked at him from her seat on the bed and he laughed, clearly very amused with himself. Returning to the kneel in front of her, his expression fell into one of concentration. He had the bandana balled up in his hand, some of the material covering his extended pointer finger. 

"It's gonna sting here in a bit," Leaning in, he started to wipe the blood from her forehead and Quinn couldn't do much else but look forward at him. MacCready's focus formed lines across his forehead and she was again reminded how strange it was that he was only twenty-two. He didn't look old like she enjoyed teasing him for, but a life of struggling through the wasteland definitely didn't have him looking like someone who could be in their final year of college. His blue eyes did keep some youthful mischief to them and she noticed they almost twinkled when he was about to say something to playfully irritate her, or when he laughed. It dawned on her that MacCready was a pretty handsome guy, a strong jaw covered in dark stubble he'd grown over the last week and even though his nose had clearly been broken a few times, she liked it- it went with his mercenary status well. Quinn's eyes trailed down to his lips, thinking about that way he'd smirk sometimes. 

"Ow! Jesus!" Quinn squeaked, pulled violently from her musings the second the vodka touched her wound, "Mac!"

MacCready raised his hands up quickly in defense, "I said it was gonna sting!"

She stared daggers at him and he stood up, using his thumb to gently brush some of her stray hairs from her face, "Keep your hair away from your dent if you can."

Exasperated, Quinn did nothing but roll her eyes at him, carefully shrugging her shoulders to test how they felt. A dull pain radiated from her neck, the headache becoming difficult to ignore.

MacCready lowered himself into the armchair across the room, letting out a long sigh as he sunk into the well worn cushions, "Get some rest, alright?"

Quinn nodded with no intention of arguing that suggestion, "What about you?"

"Hm? What about me?"

"Do I get to torment you and poke at your cuts?"

"That's a negative," He slouched in the armchair, pulling his hat down over his eyes, "Rest."

Quinn scoffed, a small smile on her face, "Yep."

If she wasn't mistaken, MacCready had already dozed off, his well muscled arms loosely crossed over his chest. Without his duster and scarf on, he was left in a white undershirt, his bare arms freshly bruised from the fall, accentuating his many scars. 

Scooching back on to the bed, she struggled to find a comfortable position for her aching body. Just as she wondered if she was going to manage to fall asleep- she did just that, falling into a deep, dreamless place. 

They'd both slept much longer than they anticipated, stirring several hours later. It had gotten too late to do much in the town but head to the bar and MacCready suggested they hang in the room for the night and dig in to his personal alcohol trove, "No point spending caps if we don't have to, right?"Quinn agreed, truly fine with moving as little as she could for the night.

The duo were about two hours into drinking, six beers and half a bottle of vodka down, both of them pink in the face and giggling at everything. Dogmeat's snout poked out from under the coffee table, his light snoring audible when the room fell silent. 

"This one I got from jumping out a window. And not an open one, let me tell you," MacCready was going through his collection of scars, pointing to a long one on his outer forearm, "A Super Mutant was coming at me- holding a goddamn, uh, I mean.. uh whatever, a goddamn mini nuke and I bailed."

"That one?" Quinn pointed to a short, very prominent scar on his left bicep.

"Stabbed with a combat knife over a game of cards," he chuckled, running a finger over the raised skin, "My arm didn't move right for months."

"Ummmmm, that one!" A round scar near his collarbone, peaking out above the neckline of his under shirt.

"Bullet. This one is from a bullet, too. Also this one. And this one."

Quinn cringed, the memory of the pain from being shot in Concord surfacing, "Okay but like... aren't you supposed to... avoid the bullets?"

MacCready nudged her with his foot from his seat in the armchair, "Hey. Considering how much I've been shot at- my dodge percentage is phenomenal."

Wiping her mouth after taking another sip of vodka, Quinn bobbed her head, "Hmm, that's a good point. I got hit by the only bullet meant for me and I'm hoping I can improve my dodging skills. Shocking nobody, getting shot sucks."

MacCready tossed the empty beer bottle into the "empties bin" they made out of a drawer from the desk with a loud clink, "I'm gonna try my best to not getting you shot again. That scared the piss out of me."

The more he drank the less he was inclined to stop himself from cursing, a quirk about him she found amusing. Much like him, she had little filter at this point in her inebriation, asking him, "Why are you helping me so much?"

He reached for the bottle of vodka, "It would be screwed up for me not to."

"Sure, yeah. But you said being selfless is foolish- aren't you being selfless with me? I'm one hundred percent sure babysitting me isn't what you planned to do with your life." Quinn's statement came out sadder than she intended, but it was something she thought about now and again. MacCready had her thrown into his lap and she was certain that wasn’t part of his plans. 

He looked at her for a long moment, his expression hard for her to read. Drinking back a couple gulps of vodka like it was nothing, he placed the bottle back on to her lap- that damn smirk on his face, "Guess I'm a fool."


	10. The Memory Den

Quinn woke up in the early afternoon with a headache far worse than the one she had the day before. Whether or not it was from her head wound or a bad hangover remained a mystery. She sat up slowly with a groan, feeling a heavy weight slide off of her. Looking down, she found MacCready's jacket had been draped over her like a blanket. The previous night was fuzzy around the edges from how drunk she'd been, but she was pretty sure she hadn't gone to sleep with it. She recalled MacCready clumsily helping her climb into bed, both of them laughing at how much their limbs didn't want to comply. He returned to his armchair, slurring out some sort of goodnight and then, just like that, he was asleep. Quinn followed soon after. 

"Ugh, man.." She rubbed her temples with both hands, laying back down with a long groan. Turning on to her side, she noticed a piece of paper folding haphazardly next to her head.

_Quinn,_

_I'm heading out to see if I can secure some work. I should be back in Goodneighbor by sundown. Don't even think about stepping foot outside of town without me. You could get kidnapped. Or eaten. Seriously, just stay put._

_I'll see you (and your dent) soon._

Quinn chuckled sleepily at the note, tossing it back down on the bed. In no hurry to roam around Goodneighbor, especially without MacCready, Quinn pulled his jacket back overself and drifted off once again.

Three hours later, she'd finally forced herself to get out of bed and wash up, stepping out onto the street nervously with Dogmeat in tow. Her plans to explore were cut short when she spotted the Memory Den down the street from Hotel Rexford. A sign faded heavily from the wasteland sun told her it was a place to relive your best moments- whatever that meant. She stood in front of the building for awhile, wondering if it would be worth going into. Feeling people starting to stare at her while she hesitated in the middle of the road, Quinn told Dogmeat to wait for her outside the doors- heading inside with a deep breath. Tentatively, she walked through a winding hallway, ending up in a large, ornately decorated gallery with strange vertical pods lining the walls.

A beautiful blonde woman laid stretched along a couch at the far end of the room, analyzing Quinn with a piercing gaze, "I think you've stepped in to the wrong place, sweetheart. You don't look like you need the Memory Den. Do you even know what we do here?"

Quinn shook her head, feeling rather small under the woman's gaze, "No. I've never been to Goodneighbor before. What is this place?"

"The name's kind of a big hint," the woman started, her tone sarcastic, "We let our... selective clients relive the past. And we don't accept just anyone."

Shifting her weight uncomfortably, Quinn looked around the room, "Why's that?"

"Look, it's no secret that reliving a memory can be about having a good time, or helpful in remembering something you've forgotten or lost recently," she shrugged her shoulders casually, "But like anything good in life, honey, it's got a kick to it. And the first time can be... traumatic. So I keep the client list very small. People I trust. It helps us avoid a lot of... unpleasantness."

Quinn felt like she was in a dream- did she even wake up from her hungover nap? What this woman was talking about sounded like exactly what she needed. It took her a few moments, a lump in her throat making it difficult for her, but she managed to speak, "I don't know who I am."

The woman sat up elegantly, her expression changing, "Whats that, sweetheart?"

Quinn had spoken so suddenly, feeling strange to be finally telling someone else her truth, her hand raised to touch her mouth. She took another deep breath, "I woke up a few weeks ago in a vault. I don't remember anything. A piece of paper told me what my name is but... that's it. I don't know how I got there. I don't know anything about my life."

Her words were getting more and more frantic with it being the first time in awhile that she'd really talked about it all, her and MacCready only mentioning it in jest now and again. The woman had walked across the room to her, her steely demeanor falling, "Oh, my poor dear. Well.. I suppose there's no harm in giving you a trial run. I must warn you, though, your predicament is not our standard fare. We generally work with existing memories you can conjure up, recent memories working the best, so I cannot guarantee you we'll be successful."

Quinn nodded, chewing on her bottom lip to stop herself from getting emotional in front of the stranger. The blonde placed a hand gently to her back, "My name is Irma. Let's see what we can do."

Irma motioned for Quinn to sit in what she called a Memory Lounger- the pod sealing shut to reveal a monitor directly in front of her. Her heart rate spiked, the Memory Lounger reminding her enough of the tube she'd woken up in to make her feel anxious.

"Doctor Amari? We have a new client. Can you find a memory we can plug into?"

A new voice emerged, "What kind of memory are we looking for?"

"That's where this gets tricky. Our client is suffering memory loss. Look for anything, if you could."

Quinn stared forward at the screen, her hands on her lap in tight fists. Nothing was happening, only a very low hum beginning to prickle her ears. Irma and Doctor Amari were still speaking back and forth, but she couldn't focus on it, her mind feeling foggy- heavy, even. 

Suddenly, her whole body seizing, Quinn was overwhelmed with images and sounds interspersed between blinding light and complete darkness. She wasn't processing what was happening as it happened, her senses flooded, eyes wide and unseeing the world in front of her- instead seeing fragments of her life like a broken slideshow. The memories flew by her and before she could grasp what she'd seen, it was gone, a new image in its place. There was no rhyme or reason, only an explosion of information. The last thing she heard before everything went black was a comforting voice, "Love you, sweetpea."

And then familiar nothingness.

"Irma, are you out of your fu-..fricken mind?"

"She's going to be fine- Doctor Amari is certain of this."

"She better be."

"Oh, Robert, don't start."

The darkness remained for awhile, Quinn only picking up on the faraway voices speaking to one another. Light began to appear beyond her closed eyelids- the true blackness disappearing. After that, the pang of her head wound returned, bringing along with it the dull and relentless ache of her body.

"See? She's stirring."

Quinn's eyes opened, the brightness of the room she woke in making her head hurt tenfold. She turned her head away from the light above with a groan, the sound caught in her throat as she met very familiar, very blue eyes.

"Do you not _like_ being conscious or something? MacCready spoke with humour, sitting in a chair next to the bed she was laid out on, but his expression betrayed him- his brow furrowed in concern.

Quinn sat up, her hands immediately raising to her nose at the unmistakable feeling of blood. MacCready stood up, swiftly placing a hand on the back of her head, the other hand pressing against hers and tilting her head back, "Irma, what did you do?"

MacCready wouldn't let her move her head, so Quinn looked over to see Irma standing by the doorway, smoking a cigarette from a long, elegant holder, "Robert, she's fine. Nosebleeds are extremely common the first time. Sweetheart, are you feeling alright?"

Still held in place by the mercenary, Quinn nodded as much as she could.

Irma tapped the ashes off her cigarette, "It's not my place to ask the details, but may I ask if you procured the answers you were looking for?"

Again, she nodded her head. She looked back up to MacCready whose worried expression changed to one of intrigue.

"Rest here for as long as you need. My doors are open to you should you need anything else." Irma glanced from MacCready to Quinn, observing the way he gently interacted with her. She nodded to Quinn, a small knowing smile on her red lips, leaving the room. 

The nosebleed had petered off and Quinn wiped the blood away from her nose, mouth and chin using a ragged cloth MacCready handed her from the bedside table, "Why didn't you tell me about this place, Mac'?"

MacCready frowned, sitting back down next to the bed, "She said after a seizure, two hours of being knocked clean out and bleeding profusely from her face," he took the bloody cloth from her and put it back on the table, "I've heard about things not going well here and I've seen things not go very well here. I wasn't exactly confident in sending you to Irma. And honestly? I didn't think they could cure someone with _no_ memories to dig up."

"They couldn't." Quinn wiped under her nose again, ensuring all the blood was gone.

MacCready looked confused, pointing a thumb back at the doorway, "But you told Irma you found what you were looking for?"

Quinn sighed, unsure if she was feeling angry or sad. Maybe it was neither. Maybe it was both, "I... I saw things. I heard things. It was the smallest glimpses in to my life but I don't... I still don't remember any of it. I saw them but I felt no connection. I don't remember living any of those moments. I don't remember the people, I don't remember the voices."

She was crying at this point, the tears streaming silently down her face, "I was taken to the vault. I think we were just in time... They escorted us all down telling us our worst fears were happening, " her voice trailed off, her mind still having a hard time piecing it all together, "I think it was my father... he didn't come with me? He said he loved me and sent me on my way."

MacCready had moved to sit next to her on the bed, not saying a word and letting her get out all the things she had to say, "They told us we'd be going to an orientation about the vault, but first we needed to go through decontamination. But they didn't do that. They froze us. Why would they freeze us? I saw other things... I think. Irma said they specialize in recent memories so... I guess I can't be surprised that the only things I saw that I could make any sense of were from just before they froze me."

Quinn couldn't hold it together anymore and she started to sob, her shoulders slumping in defeat, "I was somebody. I was somebody and I don't think I'll ever know who. I'm nobody now, Mac'."

He draped his arm over her shoulder, "That's not true. You are who you are right now. I don't know if you're the same as you were before... but I do know that you're a fierce little thing and you're a good da-..darn person through and through. You were willing to die helping people you didn't even know. That's... rare out here. You can't tell me that you're nobody."

Quinn was inconsolable, unable to reign in what she was feeling despite his kind words.A floodgate had opened and there was no stopping it. Everything moved so fast since she'd entered the wasteland, and she'd never taken time to mourn the life she had- never really felt like she had to. She bowed her head down and pressed the side of her face against MacCready's chest, her body shaking with sobs. He wrapped his other arm around her and enveloped her in a sideways hug, one of his hands stroking the back of her head.

"I'm sorry any of this happened to you," He rested his cheek against the top of her head, wordlessly offering to hold her as long as she needed, "You're gonna be okay. I swear."


	11. Winlock And Barnes

"That last kill was mine and you know it!"

Quinn sauntered through the main gate of Goodneighbor, passing MacCready who held it open for her, his rifle over his shoulder and a grin on his face. The sun was setting after a long day of clearing out nearby raider dens at the request of mayor Hancock and the two had been bickering the entire walk back about who achieved the most kills.

"No way. I got him right between the eyes," MacCready secured his rifle on his back, tucking his 10mm handgun into a holster secured on his belt.

"That doesn't count," Quinn tossed down a dried piece of mole rat for Dogmeat, "I shot him in the chest, first."

"Yeah, but it didn't kill him." MacCready was eyeing her while they slowly made their way back to Hotel Rexford, obviously teasing her.

Quinn shifted the weight of the backpack she carried over her shoulder, rolling her eyes at her partner, "It was going to and we both know it."

He slung an arm over her shoulders heavily while using his free hand to dig out a cigarette from his jacket pocket and put it in his mouth, "Guess we'll never know, huh?"

"Have I ever told you that you're insufferable?" she asked with a light laugh, pulling open the door to the hotel. MacCready reached over her head and grabbed the edge of the door, holding it open so she could walk in first.

"Maybe once or twice." 

A month had passed since Quinn stopped at the Memory Den, the both of them under a silent agreement to go on as if nothing really happened. She had spent most of that night crying and working herself up to the point of exhaustion, eventually drifting off to sleep in MacCready's arms. Irma looked into the room quite some time later to close up shop, finding both Quinn and him sound asleep. Quinn had slid down at some point, her upper body laying across MacCready's lap. He was still sitting on the bed with his back against the wall, his scarf bundled up behind his head as a makeshift pillow. Irma flicked the light off and quietly shut the door. 

When MacCready woke up he was alone, finding Quinn out in the gallery speaking with Irma. They'd thanked her for her help and her hospitality, MacCready still visibly irked at the blonde, heading back out into the warm wasteland morning. Dogmeat stirred with a yawn, rising up from the pavement to follow them.

MacCready put a hand on Quinn's shoulder, looking unsure of how to handle the situation from there, "You okay?"

She looked up at him, her eyes still a bit red and puffy from the crying she'd done, but she managed to crack a small smile, "Let's go make some caps."

He looked as though he'd taken a hint when she evaded his question, leaving it at that to Quinn's relief. 

The following weeks were a blur of taking jobs, MacCready teaching Quinn how to handle herself properly out in the Commonwealth and _a lot_ of nights spent blind drunk down at The Third Rail with all the caps they'd been raking in. Deciding to celebrate their successful raider hunt- that night definitely involved the underground bar. 

"We can head back there," MacCready motioned towards a short hall on the right side of the bar after they'd found the main area was too crowded for their liking- only standing space left at the bar itself. He lead the way, stopping dead in his tracks when he entered the back room. MacCready glanced back at Quinn who nearly walked into him, about to say something to her, but a voice coming from the room cut him off.

"Can't say I'm surprised finding you in a dump like this, MacCready." 

MacCready stepped back ever so slightly, blocking Quinn with his entire frame and reaching back to urge her closer behind him, "I was wondering how long it would take your bloodhounds to track me down, Winlock. It's been almost three months... don't tell me you're getting rusty. Should we take this outside?"

Winlock spoke again, his voice deep enough to intimate Quinn before she even got a good look at him, "It ain't like that. I'm just here to deliver a message." 

MacCready didn't respond immediately, giving Quinn the impression that he was hesitant to say what he said next, "In case you forgot, I left the Gunners for good."

"Yeah. I heard. But you're still taking jobs in the Commonwealth. This isn't going to work for us." Winlock had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, another man equally built and towering standing next to him.

"I don't take orders from you. Not anymore. So why don't you take your girlfriend and walk out of this- while you still can." Quinn did her best not to snicker at MacCready's comment, knowing the situation was looking dire. 

The other man scoffed, "What?! Winlock, tell me we don't have to listen to this shit." 

Winlock's voice lowered, every note sounding clipped and serious, "Listen up, MacCready. The only reason we haven't filled your body full of bullets is that we don't want a war with Goodneighbor. See, we respect other people's boundaries. We know how to play the game. It's something you never learned." 

"Glad to have disappointed you," MacCready shot back and Quinn could _hear_ that smirk of his on his face.

Winlock let out a humourless chuckle," You can play the tough guy all you want. But if we hear you're still operating in Gunner territory, all bets are off. You got that?" 

MacCready's hand was still touching the side of her arm as if to ensure she was still right there behind him, "You finished?"

"Yeah... we're finished." Winlock and the other man walked by them, MacCready's hand now grasping on to her arm at the elbow, shifting to keep himself between Quinn and the Gunners.

They were about halfway down the hallway, Winlock turning back to look at MacCready, "Oh- and a word of advice for when you wisely get the fuck out of the Commonwealth and set up shop elsewhere. Finish your jobs," The man's hard gaze moved beyond MacCready and looked at Quinn over his shoulder, "Or someone else will."

They were the only ones left in the back room, Quinn able to feel the tension radiating off of MacCready. He turned around to face her, his expression grave, "Sorry you had to be here when those knuckle-draggers finally found me."

Quinn looked towards the hall where the men had made their exit, "Who were they?"

For once, MacCready was the one who didn't seem to know what to say, "Uh, well. Ex-associates. I spent some time as a Gunner," his voice trailed, uncharacteristically soft spoken.

To his confusion, Quinn raised her hand and clipped his stubbled chin gently between her thumb and pointer finger, "I know, champ."

MacCready's expression was blank and Quinn waited patiently for him to put the pieces together.

He sighed heavily, his shoulders drooping, "Fu-..frick. Hawthorne?"

Quinn laughed and nodded, walking over to a couch and sitting down, "Yeah. Don't be mad at him, though. He didn't know that _I_ didn't know."

MacCready stood there, looking at her- perplexed, "It... doesn't bother you?"

She shook her head, looking as genuine as she could; she wanted him to know she was being truthful, "No."

His expression fell into relief and he sat himself down next to her, slouching forward with his forearms on his thighs, hands clasping together, "I'm not gonna lie- you've lost me here. Why wouldn't it bother you?"

"Well," Quinn shifted the way she sat so she could face him better, "I was shook when Hawthorne first told me. It wasn't something I ever expected to hear. But... it didn't take me long to realize that I know who you are. You _were_ a Gunner, you're not one now. You left and as far as I can tell you're not some menace of the Commonwealth."

MacCready was looking down at his hands, his face expressionless, "I kill people for caps. I'm not exactly a saint."

Quinn spoke bluntly, "I don't care. I know you. You wouldn't kill indiscriminately and I know you wouldn't just do anything because caps were involved."

He tilted his head and looked at her, remaining silent for awhile to study her face as if trying to find something to tell him she wasn't being sincere, "Thanks, Quinn. I don't think many people share that opinion of me."

Quinn tilted her body over and bumped her shoulder against his, "I don't care what anyone else thinks. They don't know you beyond your job description. I do. I trust you."

MacCready's expression faltered for a moment, a flash of guilt there, looking down at his hands again. Quinn looked at him curiously when he suddenly stood up, "I'm gonna grab us drinks. Beer?"

"Sure," Quinn was thrown by his strange behaviour and by that remorseful look, but then she shrugged inwardly, chalking it up to MacCready's typical avoidance and discomfort when it came to soft talk. She'd seen his softer side, she'd experienced it- it was rare, though; his general disposition was sarcastic and aloof.

He disappeared down the hall and Quinn was left looking at where he stood. Her mind trailed off, thinking about MacCready standing steadfast between her and Winlock. Did he think Winlock was going to try something? She thought about that look Winlock had given her- it was piercing. It didn't seem like much to dote on considering she certainly didn't expect a warm reception from a guy like him. Instead, she reflected on how MacCready was unwavering in wanting to protect of her, and had been since day one, and this time the thought flustered her. Shaking her head, she laughed to herself, waiting for her beer to arrive.


	12. But You? You're Different

MacCready sat in the hotel room armchair, the coffee table pulled closer to him with his collection of weapons laid out across it. His sniper rifle was freshly cleaned and he was attaching the re-calibrated scope he'd purchased from KL-E-O down at Kill or Be Killed, a long finished cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"You can't just keep ignoring me," Quinn sounded frustrated, sitting on the bed with Dogmeat's head resting on her lap.

MacCready said nothing, reattaching the worn leather shoulder strap to his rifle and placing it back down on the table in its designated spot. He had always been the disorganized type in his everyday life, but he appeared almost compulsive when it came to his job. All of his weapons down to his combat knife had been meticulously cleaned, his ammo stacked and counted twice. 

"Mac," she said his name, her tone borderline pleading. 

Finally, he took the spent cigarette and dropped it into the ashtray already piled high with them, "There's nothing to talk about."

Carefully slipping out from under the sleeping hound, Quinn walked across the room and knelt on the opposite side of the coffee table, looking up at him, "That's bullshit- you can't do this."

MacCready sighed, already lighting another cigarette. He'd broken the news to Quinn that he'd be leaving Goodneighbor to confront Winlock and Barnes and end his conflict with them for good. Quinn wanted to accept that he had to face it one way or another, but her understanding waned when he told her she wouldn't be accompanying him. 

"I can," he zipped up his rucksack, now filled with ammo, Stimpaks and Molotov cocktails he'd spent the afternoon making, "And I'm gonna."

"Stop," Quinn stood up as he did, snatching the bag away from him and stepping back out of his reach, "Stop."

MacCready extended his arm over the table, opening his hand, "Quinn, come on."

She stepped back again and shook her head, realizing how childish she was being but not finding it in herself to care, "No. You can't go without me."

He sighed, his arm dropping, "I have to."

"No, you don't. We've gone up against raiders and Super Mutants and whatever else is out there and I've done fine," Quinn dropped his bag at her feet, "I can help."

MacCready was pinching his nose, a long silence between them before he eventually spoke, "Quinn, am I _really_ gonna to have to give you a speech about this?"

If Quinn hadn't been so wound up and distressed, she may have had something sarcastic to shoot back at him, "You know what? Yes. I'd love to hear it. I want to hear what excuse you can come up with, considering I'm perfectly capable."

He groaned, jabbing his barely smoked cigarette into the ashtray, "I'm not saying you're not capable!"

Quinn brushed fiery red hair that had escaped her loose bun away from her face, waiting for a proper answer. She used her foot to nudge his bag back behind herself, crossing her arms over her chest.

MacCready slid on his jacket, beginning to secure its buttons, "You've honestly knocked my socks off with how fast you've learned every single da-..darn thing I've taught you. That doesn't mean I want you facing the Gunners- especially not Winlock and Barne's group."

Quinn was about to speak and he readily cut her off, "I worked under those two. I've seen things... and I've done things that I won't ever forget from my time with them. They're ruthless like raiders, heck, a lot of them used to be raiders but they have the training of soldiers."

"That doesn't matter- two of us is better than one," she was entirely unmoved.

He was obviously losing his cool, running his hands back through his hair, sighing, "I can't get you killed."

Quinn's temper, too, was climbing, "I want to be there. That's my decision. If something happens that's not on you! Would it be on you if we went out for a regular job and I got killed?"

"How are you this stubborn?!" MacCready raised his voice, securing the outer belt of his jacket and closing the distance between them in a few large strides. Quinn edged back in response to how quickly he came at her, the bag she'd pushed back on the floor making her lose her balance. She expected to fall, but MacCready's arm around her waist kept her standing. Her hands had come up instinctively, holding on to the front of his jacket and she was surprised to look up and see his blue eyes right there looking into hers. Neither of them said anything, Quinn at a loss for words and MacCready raising his hand to cup the side of her face. 

"Special delivery." A voice came from the other side of the room and their attention snapped to the doorway to find Hancock leaning against the frame with a smirk on his face. MacCready looked back down at Quinn, and although he leaned in again, it was to reach down and grab the bag from behind her feet with his long reach. 

Stepping away from Quinn, he turned to Hancock, "Hey, man- you found it?"

The ghoul nodded, still looking back and forth between Quinn and MacCready with a mischievous smile, "Sure did. The mayor takes care of his people."

MacCready took off his jacket to put on a piece of chest armour Hancock had handed to him- it was a pre-war bullet proof vest.

"Mind your skull, MacCready, it won't help with that." Hancock said with a chuckle, adding, "For real, though. Watch yourself out there. If you're not gonna let me send you out there with backup, you better be on your top shit."

The duo walked with Hancock down to the main gates of the town after one last comb though the gear MacCready was taking, the mayor trying his damndest to get his friend to reconsider backup. 

The two of them exchanged a firm handshake, patting one another heartily on the back, "Your lack of faith cuts deep, Hancock."

The ghoul laughed, tipping his hat to the both of them before heading back to his office, "Give em hell, MacCready."

They were left to themselves at the gate, both trying their best to push themselves to say something. MacCready silently pulled her into a hug, her arms wrapping around him to return it without hesitation. Quinn was happy to sink into it, losing focus on the the situation at hand until he reluctantly let her go, "Truth is, Quinn.."

He sighed at himself, looking sheepish, "I'm terrible at this. Look, I haven't been able to rely on anyone since I was a kid. Most everyone I've met has either tried to rip me off or plant a knife in my back."

"But you? You're different," MacCready looked as though he was gaining confidence, searching her eyes as he spoke, "We see eye-to-eye on almost everything."

Quinn wished she had something to cover her face, feeling incredibly self-conscious under his gaze as he continued, "And I have a funny feeling you actually care about what happens to me... That's why I'm telling you right now that I'm coming back. I didn't manage to find the coolest girl in the Commonwealth only to get myself killed."

There was a lot Quinn could have said, a lot she wanted to say, but she was caught off guard by how the night had unfolded, "What if you don't come back?"

"I'm coming back," he said this with nothing but confidence, leaning in and added with that MacCready smirk, "Besides, I couldn't leave you floundering here. I know you can't live without me."

Quinn laughed even though she had tears welling up in her eyes, "You're honestly the worst."

Now they were both laughing, those tears falling down her face. MacCready reached up and brushed his thumbs across her cheeks, humour still in his eyes, "Always so dramatic."

Before Quinn could retort, he cupped the back of her head and pulled her against his chest, his other arm wrapping around her to give her a squeeze. He planted a kiss firmly against the top of her head before releasing her. 

"I'll be back before you know it," He flashed her a comforting grin, pushing the front gate open and heading out into the city streets.

Quinn sighed heavily, scratching Dogmeat behind the ears as he whined mournfully, "I know, buddy."


	13. Mass Pike Interchange

MacCready sat on a cluster of huge rocks with his rifle leaned against his legs, looking up at the Mass Pike Interchange. According to his watch it was just passed midnight, the interchange almost invisible against the night sky- save for the soft glow of the lights up top. Those lights were set up to illuminate the camp that Winlock, Barnes and their team were posted at- often using the wasteland creatures and passerby below unfortunate enough to come close as target practice. He'd seen a dead Brahmin not far from where he sat, the mutant laying with an unmistakable laser weapon burn through it's side. 

"Still savages. Surprise," MacCready spoke so quietly that hardly a sound came out, his gaze not leaving those lights. His heart was already beating hard within his chest- had been since he'd left the gates of Goodneighbor. He was one of the best marksmen across both wastelands he'd inhabited and his entire life was basically one huge dangerous situation but that didn't mean he was immune from feeling nervous. Considering he was headed into something that could likely kill him, he felt the nerves were warranted.

Setting up on a vantage point higher up the rocky hillside, MacCready laid on his stomach and peered through the night vision scope of his rifle. He noted the four Gunners who were posted below the elevator up to the interchange and broadened his scan to ensure nobody would surprise him on the ground.

MacCready readied his trigger finger, a target in sight when he dropped his head, groaning in frustration. Without anyone to hear him, he muttered to himself, "RJ, you fucking idiot."

He rested his forehead in the crook of his elbow, sighing. He knew he could pack up, go back to Goodneighbor and continue his game of hide and seek with Winlock and Barnes- at least he wished he could.

"What the hell am I doing?" he kept his head lowered, thinking about his son back in the Capital Wasteland. Duncan had already lost his mother and it broke MacCready's heart to think about him losing his father, too. He was currently no closer to finding a cure for Duncan's illness and a part of him, a part he hated, thought it was a fool's errand. The part who still held hope was responsible for taking _that_ job two months ago; the more caps he had the more information he could purchase. He wasn't sure what part of him it was that allowed himself to botch it with so much at stake. 

Two months prior, a man by the name of Kellogg approached him with a job offer one night while he was heading back to Goodneighbor from Diamond City. He informed him that for one thousand caps upfront and another one thousand upon return, all MacCready had to do was get a package and bring it to a drop point.

"Two thousand caps and a bonus if you're quick. I've got two hundred caps as a gift right here and now if you take this job. I've got a few items for you that'll make this considerably smoother, too." Kellogg held a pouch full of caps up, rotating it in his hand, "What do you say?"

MacCready snuffed out his cigarette, analyzing the man in front of him, "That's a lot of caps for something that simple. What's the catch?"

Kellogg chuckled, nodding approvingly, "I understand your doubt. The only catch is that you get the job done- no questions asked. Starting now, yeah?"

MacCready had a lot of questions, but the thought of twenty-two hundred caps was too good to risk, "I'm in."

It sounded easy, it could have been _so_ easy but then MacCready met Quinn and... everything went topsy turvy. Suddenly, with her as lost and confused as she was, nothing was simple and the wasteland became much more dangerous with someone he now had to protect. 

Thinking about that gutsy girl out of time, MacCready couldn't help but smile. Even out there in the dark, probably about to take a bullet or two minimum, if not just dying- she made him feel... He wasn't really sure what she made him feel. All he knew was that it wasn't that dense, heavy darkness he'd been carrying around for so long. Quinn was different and not in a stereotypical "not like other girls" way. There was something in the way she laughed and the way she smiled that rocked him each time- they were a type of genuine he hadn't seen before. It was easier to feel like life wasn't a chore when she was around.

He promised Quinn he'd do his best to not get her killed- and MacCready always held up his end of any bargain. He spent his adult life failing everyone around him and wasn't going to fail her. Besides, he knew the risks and stayed realistic with them, but he truly didn't plan on dying up there. More than anything he wanted to see his son again someday and, about to head up to uncertainty, he could finally admit that he would kill to see her again, too.

Whether or not he wanted to recognize it, his mind was made up on taking out Winlock and Barnes the moment they were out of sight at The Third Rail. Hancock, not happy with his rash plan, reluctantly promised that he'd keep tabs on Duncan if he didn't come back and that he'd put effort into a hunt for a cure in his stead, too. MacCready loved his son, there was no question of that, but more often than not he felt like he could do no right. If he died would his son really be that worse off? MacCready wasn't sure, but what he _did_ know was that he could rely on Hancock to what needed to be done if it came down to it.

"For fuck's sake," MacCready looked into the scope and fired before he could change his mind. He didn't have a choice if he wanted to keep Quinn safe from a showdown with Winlock and Barnes. If they weren't dead, she was in danger... more danger than she already was. And it was his fault.

It took him less than fifteen seconds to take out the four ground level Gunners, reloading his rifle and scouting the next place he could run to and use for cover. The sound of gunfire was unmistakable and the soldiers above started shooting down, attempting to retaliate in the darkness.

"Come on, come on," He knelt behind a thick tree, setting up five more successful shots. The cover of night was doing him wonders; they couldn't seem to figure out where MacCready's shots were coming from. 

Dashing to where the elevator was, he let himself take a breather. The Gunners above had no way of hitting him from under the bridge and it would be suicide for any of them to try and take the elevator down; he could take them out like fish in a barrel. The sound of the laser weapons had dwindled, signalling to him that he'd put a decent dent in their numbers. MacCready, knowing he'd have no use for a long range weapon once he was up there, hung his rifle by its strap on the railing of the elevator platform. 

"I could really use a cigarette," He hit the button to ascend up, crouching down and opening up his bag. The ride up felt like ages, MacCready staying low with the Molotov cocktails he'd crafted lined up in front of him. He was breathing slowly and evenly, preparing himself for the fight of his life.

Back when he was still on the hunt for Kellogg and his mysterious employer's package, it frustrated him to no end that he wasn't told exactly what he was looking for. He was given a map with the room he'd find it in marked in red and that was it. Cloak and dagger bullshit was a waste of time to him, but he wanted those caps. He'd do anything for those caps.

At least that's what he thought.

Studying the map briefly, he looked up at the doorway he stood at to confirm he was at the right area. At the press of a button, the heavy metal door slid upwards with a long screech as if it had been some time since it was last used. The more he took in about the room he'd stepped in to the more uneasy he felt. He walked down the aisle, his throat getting dry, his heart racing so hard he could have said it hurt. 

Get a package. No questions asked. 

He turned to the left where the map said the item would be, his eyes closed tight. MacCready knew what he'd see when he opened his eyes- he only hoped somehow that he was wrong. When he did, his worst fear was realized. 

The item he had to retrieve wasn't an item at all. It was a girl asleep in a chamber. 

Any thought tucked somewhere in his mind that said he could suck it up and complete the job evaporated when she fell out of the freezing tube into his arms. Right then and there he knew he wasn't handing over the poor girl to a faceless client who planned to do God knows what with her. No mount of caps that could push him into it. MacCready was a lot of things, but he wasn't a monster. 

MacCready chuckled to himself, pulling himself out of his thoughts. For the amount of caps he'd been working for, he made no mistake of thinking that someone wouldn't come for them someday. Winlock cryptically threatening Quinn told him two things: one, whoever had hired MacCready had lost their patience and two, Winlock had to be taken out before he decided it was time to fulfill the contract he'd obviously taken over. 

The elevator was nearing the top, MacCready's window to take any of them by surprise beginning to close. Lighting up the rags stuffed into the liquor bottles, he prepared to lob them one by one. If he didn't kill a hell of a lot of them with the explosions and spreading flames, at the very least they'd be blinded and panicked. 

"Bringin' the pain," He grinned and threw the first Molotov.

It didn't take longer than ten minutes for MacCready to clear out most of the Gunner camp. Using the near constant cover of cement barriers, he was able to pick a number of them off with his handgun- every shot he took planting right between his target's eyes. There were more close calls than he'd care to admit despite his success, the worst of them a bullet to his left forearm. The other two bullets he'd taken were embedded in the bullet proof vest Hancock had given him. His wounded arm was pretty much useless, paralyzed from the pain, and he was just thankful he still had his shooting hand. There was no time to dig out a Stimpak under heavy fire- it would have to wait. He'd made it to the middle of the interchange, banged up though certainly in better shape then the dead Gunners he'd left in his wake. 

"Come on out, MacCready. It's just you and me," Winlock's voice boomed nearby.

"Yeah," he shouted back from over the barrier he was crouched behind, digging through his bag, "Sorry I torched your girlfriend, Winlock. Barnes will be missed."

His bullet wound was distractingly painful and he searched harder through the bag for a Stimpak. MacCready spoke again, wanting to lure responses from Winlock to get an idea of where he was, "You should have just dropped it, Winlock, I wouldn't have had to do this."

"And I wouldn't have to kill you if you'd listened to reason and got the fuck out of the Commonwealth," Winlock's voice was getting closer, adding, "You came here and now I get to end you fair and square."

MacCready was just about to stab the Stimpak into his arm when the world spun abruptly. Winlock had taken him by the shoulders from behind the barrier, throwing him to the pavement on the other side. His injured arm was crushed between his body and the ground, causing him to shout in agony. 

Winlock stood over him, a smirk on his face, "It'll be an added bonus with you out of the way so I can finish your job. You were taking your sweet fucking time handing her over, MacCready. I guess I can't blame you- she's a pretty little thing."

Launching himself up, MacCready dove at Winlock and tackled him to the ground. He straddled the Gunner, landing punch after punch to his head. Winlock grabbed his forearm and jammed his thumb into his bullet hole, hitting him in the side of his head with his giant fist and sending him back to the concrete. 

"It's a nice stack of caps for wrangling up some bitch and delivering her to whoever-the-fuck. Easy stuff," Winlock kicked MacCready in the ribs, causing him to roll over and groan in pain, "Oh well. Your employer was getting tired of waiting for you to quit playing house with your job and they decided to come to someone with balls."

MacCready was losing steam, but he couldn't give up now. Planting his boot hard into Winlock's knee, he jumped into a crouch and removed his combat knife from it's sheath on his leg. Winlock stumbled back and he took advantage of the moment, swiping the blade across his chest. It sliced through his shirt and through skin, blood pouring out. MacCready was on his feet again, lunging forward with the combat knife in a reverse grip. Winlock leaned back, just barely escaping without the knife jammed into the side of his neck and swung his arm out, taking MacCready out by the throat. 

When MacCready hit the ground again, Winlock laughed, "Not so fucking tough up close, huh?"

Everything was momentarily blurry, having hit the back of his head on the concrete and he couldn't orient himself enough to even attempt to evade what was coming. Winlock was ready to bring down his huge boot, the target MacCready's head.

BANG.

The smug look on Winlock's face went slack as the front of his forehead blew off in a spray of blood and brains. Wiping the gore from his face, MacCready got to his feet with a pained moan, looking up to where the shot had come from. There stood Hancock in his unmistakable red overcoat about six meters back, lowering the smoking rifle he'd just used, "I tried to give you your hero moment, man, but you were getting your ass _kicked_."

MacCready wanted to laugh, but he couldn't muster a sound as both his stomach and his heart stopped. His swimming head allowed him to see clearer... and there was Quinn to Hancock's right- shadowed by the ghoul with her handgun drawn. If he could have managed to say anything, he might have asked if they'd heard what Winlock had to say- not that he didn't already know.

Quinn remained standing there, her expression veiled. MacCready was frozen in place, looking across at her without a clue what to do or to say. Quinn lowered her gun and holstered it, her movements slow and hallow. She'd heard it all- or at least enough of it. Saying nothing, she turned around and walked away, giving her thigh a soft tap to signal Dogmeat to follow. Hancock put the rifle on his back with a sigh, looking back at Quinn and then to MacCready. The ghoul had put it all together, his marred face almost looking forlorn.

Still unmoving, MacCready heard the elevator returning to the ground. Quinn was leaving and he was not welcome to follow.


	14. Sanctuary Hills

"Preston, we made a beautiful child," Quinn stood next to the Minuteman as they both looked at their creation with pride.

The settlement recruitment beacon had taken much longer than either of them expected, their lack of tech knowledge glaringly apparent every step of the way. Not only did they have to spend a grueling week tearing apart Concord for scrap, it was another week before they had the wiring properly planned. After a total of three weeks, endless groans of despair and a final few alterations from Sturges who couldn't bear to watch them struggle any longer, the green light lit up.

Preston looked up at the beacon, beaming, "Well, would you look at that."

"You're welcome." Sturges piped in as he walked passed them, throwing a two finger salute their way.

Quinn glanced back at the resident handyman, laughing and waving a hand at him, "Yeah, yeah- thank you, Sturges."

Taking off his hat as if to honour the beacon, Preston spoke earnestly, "We can help a lot of people with this. There's more than enough room to go around here in Sanctuary and I think it has the potential to be an amazing settlement. It could be a real home."

"Hell yeah," Quinn nodded, feeling the closest thing she could describe as real happiness since she'd returned to Sanctuary. 

She'd made it to the little suburb just as the sun was beginning to rise in the Commonwealth, her legs and feet exhausted from the long trek. Taking Dogmeat and walking for hours during the darkest point of the night wasn't her brightest idea, but she didn't know what else to do. Quinn wasn't sure she was capable of doing anything else at the time- she'd suddenly been on auto-pilot. Anger and sorrow raged a war that threatened to burst her chest and she was so overwhelmed she felt as though she'd shut down. 

"Hold it," A voice came from the other end of the broken bridge and Quinn looked up from her feet to see Preston standing guard, his laser musket pointed at her.

First, his expression told her that he recognized her and slowly his relieved smile faded into concern. They walked towards one another, meeting at the center of the bridge and the moment she knew Preston was going to ask her if she was okay, she started to cry. He didn't attempt to ask her questions, instead gently ushering her into Sanctuary with Dogmeat in tow. 

Three long months had passed since that morning and Quinn had spent the entire time dedicating herself to helping Preston and Sturges rebuild the area. She'd learned she wasn't the handiest person around much to the entertainment of the two of them, the whole ordeal much less amusing to her.

"I think with this beacon set up, we deserve to call it a day. This took us way longer than I anticipated and I think it's best we never speak about it again," Preston placed his hat back on his head, chuckling at his own joke, "We can figure out what to do next in the morning?"

Quinn hadn't realized how late it had gotten, raising her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn, "For sure. I might check in with Marcy tomorrow and see if she needs anything to help with the crops. Maybe this time she won't take my head off."

Preston gave her a thumbs up, turning around and heading towards the main house where he, Sturges and Mama Murphy stayed. Quinn whistled to get Dogmeat's attention, walking into the house across the way. It was a single level home like the rest of the complex, with two bedrooms and a bathroom. She'd noted how beautiful of a house it likely was before the bombs dropped while cleaning it out in an attempt to make it homey. It wasn't much- she had a couch and a makeshift dog bed in the living room, her bedroom consisting of a single bed, an old trunk for her clothing and gear and a stack of Wasteland Survival Guides Preston gave her to read. The generous word for her place was minimalist, but it was her own and that felt good. 

"Tired, boy?" Quinn looked over to Dogmeat who bee-lined to his bed and made himself comfortable. He yawned in reply and lowered his head, his paws tucked under his snout. 

Her plan for the night had been to turn in at a decent time and get some reading done, but at this hour she accepted that her only choice now was to get some sleep. She shed her dirty t shirt and jeans, leaving them on the floor in a crumpled pile. Pulling on an old flannel button up, she crawled on to her bed and let out a content sigh. Considering how quickly things could go south in the wasteland, going to bed without pants likely wasn't the best idea. On the other hand, it had been sweltering for the last few days and there was no way Quinn could sleep fully dressed. 

Yawning, she stretched out on to her back and stared up at the ceiling. Rebuilding Sanctuary was hard work that kept her well-occupied and she could legitimately say she felt alright during the day, but nighttime was consistently rough- even with three months to accept everything that had happened. Despite her best efforts, Quinn couldn't help but mull over every single detail of her time with MacCready. She trusted him with her life and he was essentially going to sell her to someone. It occurred to her that she should be much more concerned with the fact that he had been sent to get her in the first place, but the feeling of pure betrayal overshadowed it. Would whoever it was hire _another_ person now that Winlock was gone? Would MacCready track her down and finally complete the job?

Quinn grumbled and rolled on to her side, "None of it makes sense.." MacCready was inarguably good to her. He taught her almost everything she knew about the Wasteland and he appeared to want nothing more than to protect her and do good by her. Had he truly decided not to finish the job? Or was he taking his time like Winlock had mentioned? Even if he had quit his mission- how could she trust him ever again? How much of the MacCready she knew was real? The questions she had were endless and she never did reach a conclusion. Every night had a new angle for her to pick apart. 

Closing her eyes, she willed herself to sleep as hard as she could while making an effort to clear her mind. She'd felt like she was in the realm of going under when she heard the scuff of a shoe on the floor. With the handgun she kept under her pillow in hand, she rolled over and aimed towards the door with her finger on the trigger.

MacCready stood there, hands raised up with his palms towards her, "I know you want to, but could you not shoot me?"

Quinn sat up abruptly, not allowed her aim to falter from him, "Mac'..."

There it was, that smirk, "Yup, that's me."

His hands remained up and he pushed away from the door frame, closing the distance between them. Quinn's aim didn't falter, but when MacCready gently grasped the side of the gun and pulled it from her grip, she didn't make a move to stop him. He sighed and placed the weapon back on to the bed next to Quinn, grabbing her calves and turning her to face him. She planted her feet on the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed wordlessly. MacCready knelt in front of her, looking up at her with an expression she figured was remorse.

"I'm sorry," His gaze didn't falter, his hands resting on her knees, "You gotta know I'm sorry."

Quinn still couldn't bring herself to say anything; there was too much going on in her mind. All of her questions were tangling together. MacCready looked away for a long moment, hesitation radiating off of him.

"Fuck it," He looked up at her again, and as if him swearing didn't surprise her enough, his hands moved to the sides of her face and pulled her down. She almost felt the warmth of his lips on hers when everything went abruptly white.

Quinn's eyes snapped open and she let out a groan, her hands moving up to cover her face in an attempt to hide from the sunlight flooding in between the boards nailed to her window. Rolling over, she put her face into the bundled up shirt she used as a pillow.

Following a breakfast that consisted of dry cereal, Quinn walked out of her house into the refreshingly cool morning. The sky was clouding over and it felt like it was going to rain- a welcome change to the stifling, dry heatwave they'd been suffering through. 

"Mornin', Quinn," Preston greeted her as she approached him tinkering with his musket at the weapons bench just outside his house, "Sleep well?"

Quinn shrugged, perching onto the stool next to him, "So-so. It's impossible to get any good sleep when it's stupid hot out."

He nodded, peering up at the graying sky, "I feel that. I think we're in for a treat, though. It'll be good for the crops, too. It's been brutal."

Quinn sat there with Preston while he continued to work on his weapon and he explained to her the steps he was taking to add and remove modifications to it. They didn't talk about much else, neither of them great conversationalists in the morning and that was something she appreciated from Preston. He was fine with silence and not keen on asking a lot of questions. 

As terrible as everything had gone, Quinn could see a silver lining in finding friends within the Sanctuary settlers. She wouldn't go as far as to say they felt like family, or that the settlement felt like home but they were somewhere between that and someone whose goal was to sell her to a nefarious weirdo.

She started to laugh to herself, but stopped as she was overcome with goosebumps- the air around her feeling palpable. Preston set down his musket and straightened up, looking as though he felt it, too. They exchanged a glance, and without warning a burst of blue light came down from the sky, bouncing along the cement in front of Quinn's door. The light dispersed, only to appear again tenfold- spreading like lightning. Both her and Preston shielded their eyes from the extremely bright light, the Minuteman grabbing his musket with his free hand. The air around them crackled like static and the light show began to dissipate. As their eyes adjusted they saw the silhouette of someone behind the smoke that rose from the cement in thick swirls.

Preston stood up from the work bench, quick to ready his rifle, "What the _hell_ is that?"

Quinn had no idea. All she knew was that things were about to get crazy- with a capital C.


	15. A Synthetic Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our favourite merc will return soon. ^_~

"I advise you lower your weapon."

Preston wasn't moved by the threat, his laser musket up and cranked, "That's not an option. Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen. What's your business here?"

The man was unlike anyone Quinn had seen during her time in the Commonwealth. He was dressed in something she could only describe as a padded leather trench coat and leather pants. She couldn't see his eyes beyond the mirrored sunglasses he wore, something that unnerved her greatly. 

"My business is not with you, Minuteman," He spoke slow- almost methodically, making no motions towards them. Even without moving, Quinn could tell that he was dangerous. The unreasonably large white gun strapped to his jacket belt didn't help.

Quinn got off the stool at the bench, stepping next to Preston, "Why are you here?"

Turning his attention to Quinn, the man spoke in clipped syllables, "Designation: Quinn Lee Hardin. Age: twenty one. Height: five feet, three inches. Weight: one hundred and twenty pounds. Operations parameters: acquire unharmed for delivery to the Institute."

"A Courser," Preston hissed and opened fire without hesitation, cranking the rifle's capacitor six times and shooting again.

The Courser stumbled back with both shots hitting him square in the chest, shocking them both when he reacted as though he'd been lightly pushed and not struck by a high-powered laser. He looked at Preston without a change in his expression, drawing the weapon from his belt.

"Quinn, go!" Preston shoved her unceremoniously, his tone one she'd never heard from him before and she looked at him with pleading eyes, "Go, now!" 

Quinn turned and bolted, running alongside Preston's house and turning left at the corner to head around the back. She noticed a few of the other settlers were beginning to peak out of their homes to investigate the continuing gunfire and she waved them back in, "Get back inside!"

"Quinn, what's going on?" Stopping, she looked into one of the numerous holes in the walls they'd all been meaning to get to, seeing Sturges with his gun out, a protective arm around Mama Murphy.

She reached through the hole, "Sturges, I need your gun."

There was only a second of hesitation and then he nodded, placing it into her palm. Quinn nodded back and made her way around the house, slowing to a stop around the back corner to peer out and assess the situation. Preston and the Courser had moved further up the street, the Minuteman ducking behind a car to narrowly dodge a laser blast. Quinn left the cover of the house, running behind the long demolished mess next door. She didn't have a plan, her brain nothing except a frantic mess- she only knew that she wasn't going to leave Preston, or any of the rest of them, to die. 

"The wasteland isn't a place to play the hero. That's how you get killed," She could have laughed, hearing MacCready's voice replaying in her head.

Quinn acted both for the sake of her friend and to spite the memory of MacCready, pulling the trigger twice. The Courser was rounding the car in pursuit of Preston, both bullets hitting him in his shoulder. Much to her chagrin he didn't flinch. He continued to ignore Preston's gunfire, as well, grabbing him by the lapels and throwing him over the car like he were nothing. 

"Stop!" Quinn shouted, hitting the Courser in the chest with two more bullets, the agent jumping fluidly to stand on top of the car and aiming his gun at Preston who was slowly getting back to his feet.

"Minuteman. Disruption of Institute business is punishable by death. Execution is permitted."

Preston looked up at the Courser, and raised his laser musket up again in defiance, his movement telling her he was hurting bad from being hurled. Quinn's heart raced hard enough to make her feel nauseous, staring at the scene helplessly. MacCready betrayed her. Preston was going to die trying to help her.

_Acquire unharmed for delivery to the Institute._

Quinn took a deep breath and turned the handgun on herself, pressing the muzzle to her temple, "Unharmed doesn't include a hole in my head, asshole!"

The Courser looked up from Preston and over to her- his expression remaining frozen in impassiveness. Her friend turned to see her with the gun to her head, looking at her like she'd lost her mind.

"The injury or death of Quinn Lee Hardin will result in mission failure," the Courser spoke to her like he was reading from a dossier, "Delivery to the Institute unharmed is the single priority."

"Then stop!" She barked at him, her finger moving to hover over the trigger, "Do you want to fail?"

There was a lingering silence, the Courser lower his gun and reattaching it to his belt, "Failure is punishable by deactivation. Mission suspended."

The blue light exploded where he stood, Preston falling back from the force of whatever was happening. There was cracks as loud as gunshots and then there was nothing. The Courser had disappeared the way he'd come.

Quinn dropped the gun from her shaking, sweating palm and ran over to Preston. He was getting up once again, dusting the front of his jacket and looking impressed at the burn marks that hadn't gone through, "Huh. Well, damn. Ballistic weave is a beautiful thing."

"Are you okay?" Quinn started to fuss over her friend, and he let out a tired laugh.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Nothing some rest won't fix," Preston scooped his hat off from the ground, putting it back on over a mild head wound as his expression turned more serious, "What were you thinking? Why didn't you run?"

Quinn shrugged, trying to play off how terrified she'd just been, "Me being stubborn is what saved you in Concord, so mind your business, Garvey."

Preston relented, although he still didn't look impressed, "Point taken."

They made their way back to the main house as the settlers wandered out at Preston assuring them it was all clear, the both of them trying their best to explain what had just happened in any kind of way that wouldn't freak everyone out. The sheer amount of gunfire sent most of them into hiding and it seemed as though nobody had gotten a clear look- save for Sturges and Mama Murphy.

"Coursers? Goddamnit," Sturges' voice was grim, looking around at them while they convened in the living room, "That's worse than bad."

They all nodded and Mama Murphy spoke up, looking unhappy, "I saw this. I saw it. But it was... it was all blue and oh so noisy. I'm sorry."

Preston placed his hand on her back and Quinn leaned in to touch the old woman's hand from across the coffee table, "You don't have to be sorry, you didn't know, Mama."

Quinn leaned back in the armchair she sat in, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh and speaking to nobody in particular, "He was hired by the Institute? He was supposed to hand me over to the _Institute_?"

Preston looked to Sturges and Mama Murphy, "Do you mind giving us a moment?"

Once they were alone, he unfolded his damaged jacket from the arm of the couch, searching the inner breast pocket. He took an envelope from it and extended it out to Quinn. She looked mystified, taking it and looking at the front.

****_For delivery to Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen._  
Last known location- Sanctuary Hills, north.  
Thanks Carla.  
-Daisy 

"Daisy?" She wondered out loud, thinking about the ghoul merchant from Goodneighbor. She opened up the top of the envelope, which had been previously cut open, removing a small rectangle of paper. Unfolding it, the first thing she noticed was the faded logo on the page that read "Hotel Rexford". It took her a moment to turn it over, her stomach tight; she instantly recognized the handwriting scrawled on to the sheet.

**_Garvey,_ **

**_I've been told that Quinn is at Sanctuary Hills with you and the rest of your crew. I wanted to track her down but I think she's in better hands with you. You might have been told everything, or nothing- it doesn't matter._ **

**_All that matters is that you watch her back._ **

**_I'm positive someone will be coming for her. She won't want to have anything to do with me so it has to be you who protects her._ **

**_Quinn deserves a chance out there._ **

**_-MacCready_ **

**_P.S- I think it's best you don't tell her I've contacted you. I've caused her enough pain, she's better off not hearing my name again._ **

Quinn looked over to Preston, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wanted to honour his request. Besides. I've sort of pieced together an idea of what happened from what little you've mentioned."

"How?" She asked him even though she was barely able to focus on his reply, the letter sending her reeling into a ton of emotions she couldn't identify yet.

"MacCready is somewhere near the level of a household name in the Commonwealth. He's a well known mercenary. With that knowledge, some comments you've made in passing and this letter... it just came together. I was alright with assuming because it's not my place to pry," Preston took off his hat and placed it onto the table, "The only thing concrete was that he requested I safeguard you. As a Minuteman, and as your friend, that's all I needed."

Quinn managed to show Preston a grateful smile, once again amazed at what a kind person he was, nodding her head, "You're a good man, Preston."

There was a pause and he looked as if he were debating saying something, "If you don't mind me saying... I think he is, too."

She shrugged, the statement making her somewhat uncomfortable. MacCready had as much trust as Quinn could possibly give him and then she'd found out their meeting was completely orchestrated. Him being a mercenary was something that didn't bother her because she was unmovably certain he had a good heart under his prickly exterior and that he wasn't the type to take _any_ job for the right amount of caps. Finding out she was wrong left her feeling something akin to heartbroken, on top of stupid.

"He could have made a mistake, Quinn," Preston spoke in that soft, earnest way that made it hard for her not to listen, "I may be no fan of mercenaries, but I'm not above understanding why they exist. The wasteland? It's a hard place to survive in and sometimes people do things they aren't proud of to get to the next day."

He continued, "Why would he ask me to keep you safe if he didn't care about you? He's had more than enough time to try and complete his task. We met around five or six months ago? If he was going to do it, I really do believe he already would have."

Preston was right and somewhere in herself she'd known that truth for some time. Quinn could never really convince herself that MacCready didn't care about her- there was just a lot to the situation that she felt like she couldn't forgive. Finding out the truth that night on the interchange forced her to look at MacCready differently and she wasn't sure she could move beyond that.

The Minuteman continued to speak wholeheartedly and with care, "This is a theory. I don't think MacCready knew he was working for the Institute. They're the ultimate in bad news around these parts. Why warn me that someone was coming for you, insist that I protect you and then leave out the part that the Institute was involved? They're something people need to be prepared for. They're not a small enemy to have."

Quinn nodded along as he spoke, unsure of what she thought, but letting him know that she was following. Words were still lost on her.

"You may not like this, Quinn." Preston rubbed his stubbled chin, "The Institute isn't going to up and stop. We're going to need all the help we can get. We're going to need MacCready."


	16. Return to Goodneighbor

Preston was adamant that they recruit MacCready to aid in their newfound fight with the Institute or, at the very least, track him down and discuss what had happened at Sanctuary in person. Quinn had always admired the Minuteman and his unshakable ability to be good and fair, but right now it was _ticking her off_. 

"He's one of the best the Commonwealth has to offer," He'd said to her when she, not surprisingly, didn't look thrilled at the idea of seeing the mercenary, "I know you're unhappy with him, but this is serious, Quinn. I can't send anyone from here to find him and I definitely can't leave you here without anyone else who has combat training. I don't think your trick will work twice."

Quinn sighed. Preston was right even though she didn't want to admit it. MacCready would be a huge asset in fighting off the Institute. Plus, if he _did_ know they were behind his contract he may have some answers or insight. She still worried that they were making a mistake going to him, part of her afraid to be near him again. The tumultuous and conflicting theories gave her a headache.

She turned in early that night to prepare for the long walk in the morning, beckoning Dogmeat over to lay next to her in bed. He licked under her chin and she grinned, tousling his thick fur. Turning on her side, she draped an arm over the hound and stared at the doorway. Before Quinn fell into a heavy sleep, she thought about MacCready. He'd hurt her and then she hurt herself promising she'd never see him again- and never forgive him. She spent much of the last three months angry because she knew she missed him and couldn't stop it. Even in the moments she was certain he was only waiting to hand her over for his caps, she missed him. Since Quinn woke in the vault, they'd been nearly inseparable and before she knew it she'd grown used to his place in her life. And then as suddenly as he was there- he was gone. From friend to... whatever it is that he meant to her now. 

Quinn wasn't sure what he meant to her. It was hard enough for her to decide when they were on good terms. Now she _wanted_ to hate him, she _said_ she hated him, but she didn't. For some reason she _couldn't_. Part of her was angry with him, part of her was scared of him and part of her needed to see him again- for better or for worse. 

She dreamed about MacCready again that night, this time experiencing a rapid fire walk through of her time with him. Despite where the road ultimately led, she knew the dream felt good; they had more fun together than was reasonable in a desolate, hellish wasteland. They made each other laugh until they were in tears- laughing to a point where she wondered if she had ever laughed so hard in her forgotten life. Quinn hadn't noticed until her dream how she often looked at MacCready to see he was already looking at her. He generally wore a stern look on his face with his lips set in an irritated frown- though never at her. The way he grinned at her made it easier for her to remember that he was only twenty-two. She awoke as MacCready embraced her the last time before disappearing off to the Mass Pike Interchange, feeling his warmth and how it felt when his stubble tickled the top of her head even in the waking world.

They hit the road as soon as the sun rose, Quinn and Preston armed heavier than usual under their new circumstances, Dogmeat walking alongside them wearing a saddle bag filled with extra ammo and medical supplies. Their journey back to Goodneighbor was as uneventful as they could hope- a few run-ins with the standard fare of the wasteland scattered along the way. Preston walked through the front gate and Quinn tried to follow- her feet stopping just before she stepped over the threshold. 

"Is there anywhere we should start fir-" Preston stopped when he realized she was no longer following, turning around to look at her. She wasn't sure what her expression was, but he looked at her sympathetically, "You made it this far, Quinn."

Quinn nodded, taking a deep breath and following after him, hardly able to feel her feet under her. He offered her a smile and a hand on her shoulder, "Come on. Where to?"

"Um, let's see," Quinn paused to think about it- well, she feigned thinking about it. Her chest was tight, breathing beginning to feel like a chore. She wouldn't admit it but she was beginning to panic. Quinn knew that at this time MacCready would likely be down at The Third Rail if he were in town at all, "Why don't you try the bar? The Third Rail. I'll check out Hotel Rexford. We can get this over with faster."

Preston didn't look convinced, trying to read her face, "Well... alright. I'll meet you in front of Rexford in a bit?"

Quinn nodded, trying to smile and certain it didn't come off as anything but anxious. They walked a bit further and then split off, Preston disappearing behind the door of The Third Rail leaving Quinn to make her way to the hotel. 

"Alright, boy, I'll be back," She gave Dogmeat his usual dried piece of mole rat, heading into the hotel before she could change her mind. It appeared as if nothing had changed in the time she was gone- right down to the same people loitering around the lobby. Quinn knew she was stalling, unsure of what she was going to do if MacCready _was_ up in his room. Who was she kidding, though? She had no idea what she was going to do if she saw him, period.

The day was cooler, a continuation of a break in the heatwave, and Quinn wore her hair down, the waves falling just below her shoulders. She brushed her hands back through it nervously, making her way up to the hotel's top floor. The hallway she'd walked up and down so many times before felt strange and unfamiliar now. Stopping in front of MacCready's door, she sighed. She had no plans of knocking or going in and she desperately hoped that Preston had found MacCready down at The Third Rail. Quinn needed all the time she could get before she faced him.

As if the universe heard her thoughts, the door to the suite opened and MacCready was heading out, putting his hat over his disheveled hair. He nearly ran into Quinn before stopping short- those blue eyes widening when he realized who it was. Neither of them expected to see the other and they both stood there frozen. 

"Quinn," Her name left his mouth more as a breath than a word, his voice so quite she barely heard it.

Quinn stared up at MacCready, feeling more unprepared for this moment than she had for anything else in the Commonwealth- Super Mutants included. She opened her mouth a few times to say something, literally anything, but she couldn't. Instead she turned away and started briskly back down the hall, cursing Preston for making her come back to Goodneighbor.

Quinn heard MacCready's heavy boots behind her, a strong hand grabbing her by the arm and spinning her back around, "Quinn, wait."

With her body numb from the tension coursing through her, the spin caused her to stagger forward and collide with his chest. She stood there pressed against him and MacCready's hand remained holding her arm, but he didn't make a move to do anything else. The air between them felt broken- neither of them knowing how to react to the other. 

Quinn exhaled and pulled away, taking a step back to create space between them, the familiar scent of his jacket distracting her, "The Institute came to Sanctuary."

MacCready's face dropped, looking the closest thing she'd ever seen to afraid, "What?"

"The Institute sent a Courser to Sanctuary," Speaking about the incident made her feel more confident in speaking to him- as if Quinn remembered just how mad she was at him, "Your bosses sent him to finish your job and nearly killed Preston in the process."

MacCready looked like he'd been punched, his shoulders slumping, "The Institute...?"

"Yes, the Institute... wait," Quinn narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him, "...You didn't know?"

"No. No no. Fu-.. frick no," MacCready sounded astonished, his voice nearly lost again. He focused on her, looking down into her eyes with an expression that begged her to believe him, "Quinn, I had no idea. I was hired by a middle man."

Quinn wished his words made her feel better. Instead she could do nothing but continue to doubt him, taking another step away from him, "I..uh, Preston wants to talk to you. He's at The Third Rail."

Saying nothing more she turned tail and begun her walk back down to the bar. MacCready didn't immediately follow and she spared the quickest glance back at him. Quinn felt like she didn't know him anymore, but the look on his face was easy to read: he was devastated.


	17. The Second I Saw You

"It's best you stay here in Goodneighbor," Preston avoided Quinn's withering stare, knowing this was strike two in her books, "Being on the road means there'll be a lot of vulnerable times for attack. The Institute will be back for you. We don't know when, but it'll be better if it happens somewhere defensible and full of well-armed folk."

Preston decided that he'd head back out into the Commonwealth and do his best to track down the last of the former Minutemen to implore them to join their cause against the Institute. Before the Courser came for Quinn, he'd only considered the Institute a boogeyman scapegoat to explain away the horrors of the wasteland. He knew they existed, he just wasn't certain how much he believed the stories. Now with a glimpse into their activities he refused to do anything less than make moves to take them down- for the sake of his friend and for the Commonwealth as a whole. 

MacCready nodded, not looking up from the coffee table as he put his rifle back together after it's cleaning, "I filled Hancock in on the situation. He said he'd let the Neighborhood Watch know to stay on their toes."

"Why would Hancock put Goodneigbor in danger?" Quinn asked, kneeling next to Dogmeat and unloading some ammo and medical supplies from his saddle bags. She directed the question to MacCready, but didn't look up at him.

She could feel MacCready's eyes on her, "Hancock hates the Institute. All of Goodneighbor does."

Quinn handed Preston the last of the split up supplies while MacCready continued, "To be fair, everyone hates the Institute. The big difference is that Goodneighbor isn't afraid."

Out at the front gates, Quinn and Preston exchanged a hug as he dodged her attempt to tag along once again, I can't let you do that, Quinn. You'll be safer here. You don't have to worry about me; I doubt the Institute has any interest in me. Not yet, anyways."

Quinn looked unsure and Preston spoke more seriously, "I've failed almost anyone who ever relied on me. I nearly gave up on the Minutemen and everything I believed in. But this is my chance to change that, Quinn. I can do something to help and you know I have to."

She nodded, punching him gently on the shoulder, "I know, Preston. Be careful, okay? I don't know how I'll tell our settlement beacon it no longer has a father."

The somber look on Preston's face faded as he belly-laughed at her comment, "I would never forget about the beacon."

They smiled at one another, saying goodbye without words. Quinn felt a pang in her stomach, it dawning on her that she may have been wrong when she thought she didn't see the people of Sanctuary Hills as family. Preston had become important to her and the idea of someone so unshakably good getting hurt scared her. The Commonwealth was never a fair place- so what could possibly assure her that someone good would make it out there? She shook herself out of her thoughts, reminding herself that her friend was more than capable.

"Still wasting your time trying to save the world, huh Garvey?" MacCready chuckled as the two men shook hands firmly, his eyes showing he spoke in good humour. 

Preston tipped his hat to them, turning around to head out, "Always. Stay safe, you two."

The gate closed behind the Minuteman, leaving MacCready and Quinn standing there silently, unable to face one another. Quinn occupied herself by petting Dogmeat behind the ears, the mercenary scratching the back of his head with a sigh.

"I have never been more uncomfortable in my life," A voice came from behind them and they turned to look at the source. Hancock stood there with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, a mischevious smirk on his face, "Haven't made up, yet?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and walked passed the mayor, "Have him kidnap you and plan to sell you to the Institute then tell me how you feel about it."

"Damn, MacCready! Hell hath no fury," Hancock sounded amused, and MacCready had no response other than a grumble.

Quinn had made it halfway back to Hotel Rexford, Dogmeat jumping up on her legs excitedly for a treat when Hancock caught up with her, "Hey, hey- wait up. That was a great exit but I got something to tell you."

"Yeah?" She spoke impassively, letting the hound eat from the palm of her hand.

Hancock inhaled the last of his cigarette, blowing out a thick stream of smoke, "I'm hosting a party tonight at The Third Rail. I'm aptly naming it the "Fuck The Institute Soiree". Come on down, yeah? Technically you'd be the guest of honor. Free drinks all night- I'm feeling _generous_."

Quinn couldn't help but laugh as Hancock pretended to dance with an invisible partner, moving in a circle, "How could I say no?"

"I hoped you'd say that. See you tonight," He winked at her, already lighting another cigarette as he walked away.

She knew it likely wasn't customary in the post-apocalyptic world to get "ready" for a party, but Quinn felt it was necessary to get cleaned up. While she loitered around MacCready's suite with Dogmeat, she left a large bowl of water out in the hall to warm in the sweltering sunlight to use as a means to scrub herself down. When all was said and done she put on her only other change of clothing: a dark grey tank top with a black pair of jeans and her combat boots. 

"That's about as good as I'm gonna get," She loosened her hair from the braids she'd let it dry in, her vibrant red locks now left with a wave to them. Taking a long swig from a bottle of whiskey, Quinn said goodbye to Dogmeat and headed out to the bar.

Walking down the stairs of The Third Rail, Quinn could hear Hancock's voice amplified by a microphone. She stopped halfway down the steps and leaned against the railing, watching the mayor make his speech from above. He stood where Magnolia usually did, what was likely every citizen of Goodneighbor there before him.

"We freaks gotta stick together. And the best way to stick together is to keep an eye on what drive us apart, ya feel me?"

The crowd responded with a cheer, Quinn watching heads bob in agreement, "Now what out there in our big, friendly Commonwealth would want to drive us apart? What kind of twisted, un-neighborly boogeyman would want to hurt our peaceful community?"

Someone shouted from the bar, "The Institute and their synths!"

Hancock pointed over to where the voice had come from, "That's right! Who said that? Come see me later. You've earned yourself some Jet!"

Quinn shook her head, feeling baffled as she often did around the wasteland. She often forgot how almost everything she could recall being taboo pre-war simply wasn't now. Drug use, alcoholism, fighting, killing... people rarely batted an eyelash at it. 

"The Institute! They're the real enemy! Not the raiders, not the Super Mutants, not even those _tools_ over in Diamond City."

"I don't know, Hancock. I'd sure love to give McDonough a kick in the ass!" Another voice rose from somewhere.

Hancock laughed heartily, "Hey, we all know I got my own personal beef with that lard-head, but stay focused! Now- I want everyone to keep the Institute in mind. When someone starts acting funny. When people are doing things they don't normally do. When family starts pushing you away for no reason. We all know who's behind that kind of shit. And the only way to stop it is to stick together."

Much to Quinn's mortification, the mayor pointed up to her on the stairs, "I know you've all heard whispers going around today and I'm here to confirm it all. You see our girl up there? The Institute wants to get their hands on her. They've hired mercs, they've sent Coursers- and I'm declaring right here and now that she is under the protection of Goodneighbor. Quinn is our sister and ain't nobody laying a single finger on her while she's within these walls. Well, unless she wants it- right MacCready?"

Everyone laughed, a few whistles piercing the room and Quinn put a hand over her face, narrowly resisting the urge to sink down to where nobody could see her. She made note to kill Hancock sometime later. She scanned the crowd and spotted MacCready seated close to the bar, Fred Allen next to him jostling his shoulder and grinning in a way only a drunk man could. MacCready shook his head at Hancock, looking like he was having a hard time being annoyed at the boisterous Chem dealer next to him. He looked up at Quinn and she felt her stomach tighten- quickly looking back to Hancock.

Hancock motioned for the crowd to calm down, hardly containing his grin at his own joke, "Now remember! The Institute can't control us if we're not afraid! Who's scared of the Institute?"

"Not us!" The residents boomed, beer bottles and shot glasses raised upwards.

"And which town in the Commonwealth should the Institute not fuck with?" Hancock motioned is hands upwards, beckoning the crowd.

"Goodneighbor!"

The mayor raised a hand to cup his ear, "And who's in charge of Goodneighbor?"

Quinn had thought the crowd was loud before, impressed at how much louder they could get, "Hancock! Of the people! For the people!"

Applause and cheers broke out, the sound of glasses clinking together making Quinn grin. Goodneighbor was certainly "rough and tumble" as MacCready had described it- but the sense of community was reassuring. She wasn't comfortable with the anti-synth sentiment, that portion of the speech making her think back to the brothers in Diamond City. Maybe one day she'd give Hancock the Piper treatment, but she'd decided that tonight wasn't the night. This evening was for drinking until she forgot her troubles. 

Later that night, Hancock stood on the serving side of the bar with Quinn seated across from him, "Here's to those we fuck! Here's to those that fuck us! If those we fuck are fucking with us-!"

Quinn raised a shot glass, her cheeks pink as she shouted the last of the chant, "Then fuck them and here's to us!"

Both of them downed their vodka, the drifters around them cheering them on. Quinn slammed her glass back down on to the bar, cringing as the burning in her throat subsided. Hancock reached over and grabbed her shoulders, giving her a shake, "Girl, you are a champion!"

He mussed the top of her hair before beginning to pour drinks for the others crowding the bar. Quinn chuckled and took a long drink of purified water, certainly feeling the effects of the booze Hancock had been feeding her. The Third Rail was frequently a busy establishment, but she'd never seen it as packed as it was that night. People were shoulder to shoulder at the bar, every table had extra chairs pulled up to them and the area in front of the "stage" area had people dancing.

"Thanks, man," Quinn heard someone to her left. She looked over and saw a wrist with a thick banded leather watch grab a shot. Her gaze trailed up and she was met with MacCready's blue eyes. He tipped his head back and gulped down the shot, setting the glass down with a hiss. Turning his attention back to Quinn, he winked, "Drunk enough to talk to me, yet?"

She didn't have time to reply before MacCready grabbed a hold of her wrist and pulled her off the stool and gently after him. He weaved through the crowd of people and Quinn followed after him, her mind just foggy enough from the liquor to feel as if she didn't want to pull her arm away- or hit him, "Mac?"

MacCready was leading her to the back room they'd always hung out in, the rest of the bar not using the space as usual. He let go of her arm and she stood there silently, unsure of what he was doing. He sat back against a short decorative dresser on the other side of the room, looking at her for a long moment before speaking, "I know you don't want to talk to me, but could you give me a chance? Liquid courage only lasts for so long."

Quinn wanted to give him attitude, to keep projecting her anger and her sadness on him, but there was something in his eyes that stopped her. She nodded curtly, "Okay."

MacCready sighed, looking down at his feet, "I didn't know."

Quinn didn't say anything, wanting to let him say what he needed to say; she didn't trust herself to not say something biting to him, "I didn't know what I was supposed to be getting in the vault."

He looked back up at her, "I didn't know until you were right in front of me in that fu-.. fricken fridge."

She raised her hands and brushed them back through her hair, pushing it away from her face. What he'd said made her last angry leg to stand on shake, "You didn't?"

MacCready shook his head, "I swear to you, Quinn. I didn't know. It was a no questions asked job and for those kind of caps I was willing to go along with it. I was told where to go, given a way to get in and I had a map that lead me to you. The second I saw you I knew I wasn't going through with it."

Quinn could feel her gaze softening, unable to doubt the remorse in his voice, "Mac, why didn't you tell me?"

That boyish grin appeared on his face, "How do you propose I start a conversation like that?"

She shrugged and laughed a bit, "Yeah... Good point, I guess."

They both fell silent, staring at one another from across the room. Quinn shifted her weight uncomfortably as she tried to think of something to say. Being committed to staying pissed at him forever left her without a clue how to interact with him knowing what she knew now. 

"Come here?" MacCready posed it as a question, looking at her with that unreadable expression she'd seen a few times before. 

Before she realized it, Quinn was already walking across the room to him, feeling as if her feet were moving on their own. MacCready's nearly permanent mask of confidence wavered, his eyes moving from her and down to his feet.

"Quinn," he started with a sigh, taking his hat off with his free hand and placing it next to him on the dresser, "I know you're mad at me. I know it'll take you awhile to forgive me.. if you even decide to. Things might never go back to how they were before you left, but I just... I need to do one thing. You can hate me after if you want to."

MacCready slipped an arm around her waist and drew her against him, leaning in and brushing his lips against her cheek. Quinn froze, but any hesitation she felt melted away as quickly as it came when his free hand cupped her chin and tilted her head up to him. And just like that, MacCready finally kissed her. His hand moved back into her hair to pull her deeper into the kiss, her hands rising up and grasping the scarf around his neck. For a moment she forgot every reason she was upset with him, consumed by an urge to have him closer.

"Yo, MacRe-" Hancock's voice came from behind them and the mercenary broke their moment to look up at the mayor, "Heyyyy, you two made up!"

MacCready made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob at the mayor's interruption, his head hanging to rest on Quinn's shoulder as if defeated. Wrapping his other arm around her, he groaned, "Oh, come on."


	18. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've never really written smutty stuff before so HERE GOES.

Quinn woke with a grumble, rolling over on to her stomach automatically to avoid what little light shone through the boarded up windows of the suite. It'd been months since her last hangover, but she recognized the feeling immediately. She felt nauseous and her head was _killing_ her. Hancock wasn't lying when he said he'd been feeling generous; Quinn was certain she'd had enough to drink for a handful of people over the course of the night. The events of the evening were blurred around the edges, the pounding in her head making it difficult to even attempt to piece it all together. 

Quinn felt movement next to her, something nudging her in the side, "Dogmeat, move over.."

She opened her eyes and stared across the room blearily and there the hound was, snoring away underneath the coffee table. MacCready wasn't asleep in his armchair as he usually was, instead his jacket was tossed on to it along with his scarf, hat and an empty bottle of vodka. 

"Oh.." Quinn raised herself up on her forearms, turning her head slowly to take a look at the space next to her. MacCready was sprawled out on his back, one of his arms raised up and over his eyes as he remained dead to the world. Much to her relief he was clothed and only missing his outerwear. She still wore everything she could think of from the previous night aside from her boots.

Quinn was making moves as carefully as she could to get off the bed when MacCready rolled over, his arm draping across her waist and tugging her in to him. His chin rested on the top of her head and although she couldn't see his face his breathing told her that he was still fast asleep. If she weren't so disoriented and panicked, she knew she could sink right back into him and sleep off her hangover. Unfortunately, she wasn't remotely prepared on how to handle the whole situation, instead opting to slip out from under his arm and hightail it out of the room with her boots in hand as quickly as she could without making noise.

"Oh God," Quinn leaned back against the door after she'd closed it, her hammering heart the only thing she could hear. So much of the night had swirled together in a drunken haze, but she knew one thing for sure, "He kissed me?"

She'd been idly thinking back on that moment as she walked out of Hotel Rexford, knowing she was likely blushing when she heard a whistle from across the street. Looking up, she saw Hancock looking no worse for wear, that damn mischievous smirk on his face, "Morning, Quinn. Shocked to see you in the land of the living already."

Suddenly aware of how disheveled she must have looked, Quinn bundled her hair up into a bun as she walked over to the mayor, "No thanks to you. Were you trying to kill me?"

Hancock laughed, the sound much too loud for her poor head, "Oh come now, of course not. We all need a wild night here and there to remind us we're alive."

They'd made it up to his office's seating area, Quinn nursing a water when Hancock brought up what she figured he would, "Soooo, where's our favourite merc?"

Quinn was slouched in an armchair, sure there wasn't a single thing she could say that wouldn't have Hancock teasing her, "He's still sleeping."

"Oh ho ho. I bet he is." Hancock grinned, leaning back as if pleased with himself.

"Oh my God, Hancock. Nothing happened, pervert," She grumbled, glaring over at him.

"I sure saw _something_ happen last night."

Quinn had to rub her temples, her hangover far too severe to want to deal with him, "Okay- nothing _else_ happened last night. Why are you so obsessed with MacCready and I, anyways? There's gotta be better things to focus on being the mayor and everything."

Hancock laughed, shrugging his shoulders, "What can I say? I truly take interest in my people."

She glared harder, her tone warning him, "Hancock."

The ghoul was lighting a cigarette, chuckling as he placed it between his lips, "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. It's just... Alright, look. I'll level with ya. MacCready was real broken up after you left, ya know? Maybe nobody else could tell, but I could. I know that ruffian well."

Quinn sipped her water to conceal her frown, reminded of how wrong she'd been about MacCready and his intentions. 

"MacCready's known for two things: good aim and a bad attitude. I can't say I've seen him genuinely care about much of anything, save for a few things; he's always been too busy being an ass. You're an exception to that and I don't think you get what a fuck of a big deal that is."

She shifted in the chair, cursing herself for slipping out of one uncomfortable situation into another. Part of her felt good knowing MacCready genuinely cared about her and enjoyed her place in his life but waking up that morning had her having to face where to go from there. He'd kissed her and she certainly kissed him back with no qualms, though Quinn wasn't sure what it meant for them. 

Hancock smoked silently for awhile before starting again, "I'm gonna get real cliche now. MacCready? He's a good man. I don't know how much that means coming from the mayor of skid row, but I mean it with my whole Jet fueled heart," He patted at his chest, batting what would have been his eyelashes.

Quinn leaned forward and placed her empty glass on to the coffee table, "I know. I think I still knew it even after I left... I just felt so.. so betrayed. We spent all of our time together and suddenly everything I thought I knew was wrong. The only person I actually knew out here and my friendship with him felt like a lie."

He nodded and continued his cigarette, his gaze thoughtful as he looked off at nothing at all, "MacCready's the secretive type. Don't think he's much of a liar. The kid can play a great hand of cards but his poker face is trash in real life. I knew he had the hots for you the second I saw you in the same room."

Quinn cleared her throat, knowing she had nothing to say, "Huh."

Hancock laughed and shrugged his shoulders, "Something to think about."

Stepping back out into the quickly warming morning, Quinn stretched her arms upwards. The long night of partying had her sore and exhausted. There was so little to do in Goodneighbor and she was at a loss without feeling ready to head back up to the suite or to even _think_ about going down to The Third Rail. The very thought of liquor made her stomach turn. 

"Well..." She stood in front of the Memory Den, sitting on the fence over whether to go in or not. There were pockets of the previous night that were pretty blurry and even some spots that were a total blank. It didn't bother her that she couldn't remember moments; she'd been black out drunk countless times during her time in the Commonwealth but what else was she supposed to do with her time? It couldn't hurt to take a dig around, right? There had to be some hilarious or embarrassing things she could use against Hancock or MacCready in there.

Quinn sat in the Memory Lounger and Irma nodded as she blew out a cloud of smoke, "A lost drunken night? That's a common one here. I'll get Doctor Amari to find something that can be worked with and leave you to it, dear."

The heaviness in Quinn's head set in like a thick fog, a low hum filling the Memory Lounger. She stared at the screen ahead and took a deep breath, feeling every nerve in her body beginning to tense. Suddenly- she felt as if she were falling.

"If you drop the last of the vodka, I'll straight up murder you," Quinn was giggling with her arms wrapped around MacCready's neck, the mercenary carrying her on his back up the stairs of Hotel Rexford. He had his arms wrapped under her legs, holding the bottle in his left hand.

He turned his head in an attempt to look back, "How is it fair that I'm carrying you _and_ the vodka?"

"Uh, because I'm carrying your jacket, your scarf and your hat," She said this matter-of-factly, her head resting against the side of his.

MacCready laughed, taking a moment to regain his footing after almost tripping, "You're _wearing_ my jacket, my scarf and my hat. That means I'm carrying everything."

When they reached the door, Quinn hopped off his back and leaned against the cracked door frame to stop herself from stumbling, "I'll take your argument into consideration."

The two of them might as well have fallen into the room, Dogmeat greeting them with a happy bark. He circled their feet to get the attention he'd been waiting for all night, then returning to his spot under the coffee table once he'd decided his quota had been filled. Quinn removed MacCready's jacket and tossed it over the armchair along with his hat, unscrewing the lid off of the vodka she'd snatched from his hand while he was distracted by Dogmeat.

"Hey." MacCready curled a finger into one of her belt loops, spinning her around with a pull, "Share."

Quinn giggled, shaking the empty bottle up at him, "Sorrrrry, my bad."

MacCready smirked and wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her in as he grabbed the empty bottle and dropped it on to the armchair behind her. He pressed his lips to hers and she let out a small sound of surprise. She felt his tongue brush against her bottom lip to taste the liquor on them before he pulled away, "I'll count that as sharing."

Quinn couldn't leave it at that- there was no way. She had hardly managed to get through the remainder of the night with a ton of different distractions, their first kiss on the forefront of her mind the entire time. Now there was nothing but silence and tension between them. MacCready had said liquid courage only lasted so long and she was ready to take advantage of that fact. She clutched the front of his undershirt and pulled him to her, their lips back together without hesitation. MacCready ripped the scarf from her neck and tossed it in the direction of the armchair, using his body to lead her back against the wall. There was no tenderness this time, only the clumsiness and impatience of liquor. 

MacCready's lips left hers, peppering her cheek and the side of her neck with firm kisses. His stubble prickled her skin causing her to laugh, "Mac'.."

He grabbed her ass and lifted her up, the both of them snickering as he about lost his footing. Quinn wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms encircling his neck, "Is it weird that you've never told me your actual name?"

MacCready made his way over to the bed, giving her that good ole' smirk and dropping his hands out from under her without warning. She fell down onto the bed and kicked at him playfully, sitting up on her elbows.

"MacCready is my real name," He teased her and grabbed her ankle, pulling at her boot laces. Quinn looked up at him and albeit difficult for her to focus her vision, she couldn't help but grin at how handsome he was. At this point she could say he was straight up sexy- not that she'd even think about bolstering his ego with that musing. He loosened her other boot and started to tug them off.

Wiggling her feet to help him in his task, Quinn stuck her tongue out, "I think I heard Irma say it once but, ya know... being half conscious and all."

MacCready all but chucked her boots over his shoulders, placing a hand next to her head to support himself to lean over her, "Robert Joseph MacCready. I prefer RJ, but MacCready has some kinda ring to it, I guess."

Quinn, briefly distracted by his mouth, blinked up at him, "You'd rather I call you RJ?"

He nodded and looked down at her with half-lidded eyes, "Uh huh."

Unable to help herself, she pecked him quickly and said, "Oh, alright. Noted, _MacCready_."

"Ohhh.." He growled at her and promptly grabbed one of her feet, starting to tickle it mercilessly, "That's how you wanna be?"

Quinn instantly shrieked, laughing wildly and trying her damndest to get her foot away from him. She gave him a solid kick to the thigh with her free foot, using his surprise to scramble further back on the bed without any other options for escape. He had a wolfish grin on his face as he continued in on her, grabbing her ankles.

"Stop! Stop stop!" She was practically breathless now, laughing so hard she had tears welling up in her yes. MacCready started to pull her down the bed towards him and she rolled on to her stomach and tried grabbing the edge of the mattress in an attempt stop herself from being dragged further, "Okay, okay! RJ, you win!"

MacCready stopped and took a moment to debate her surrender, but instead he climbed on to the bed and straddled her ass, tickling her sides, "Sorry? What was that?"

Quinn flailed, completely trapped underneath the mercenary. She wiggled around as much as she could under his weight, her legs kicking around desperately, "RJ! RJ! Ohmygoddd stop!"

They were both laughing as if they didn't have a single care in the world. Quinn wasn't an amnesiac on the run from the Commonwealth's boogeyman. MacCready wasn't a surly mercenary with a target on his back. His hands stopped and slid upwards along her sides where her tank top had ridden up, his rough digits making her shiver. He shifted and his body pressed to hers, her cheeks pink from more than just the alcohol. Neither of them were laughing anymore, the only sound in the room their increasingly heavy breathing. His hand rounded her waist and wedged between her stomach and the mattress, teasing down excruciatingly slow.

Quinn let out an involuntary whine , her hips rolling back to silently encourage him to continue. His fingers dipped under the waistband of her jeans, her eyes flickering shut as his chin rested on her shoulder.

"Fuck.." MacCready swearing would normally amuse her, but it was an exception in this situation; it was making her heart race, her hips grinding back harder against him.

He groaned next to her ear and muttered, "You're killing me here."

Quinn's eyes opened, pouting when his hand retreated from inside her jeans. MacCready's strong hands planted themselves on her waist, rolling her over under him so they faced one another. The way he looked down at her caused her cheeks to feel warmer than they already were, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. 

His blue eyes were looking down at her with unmistakable lust and something else behind it- was that admiration? He pushed her hair away from her face and smiled. Not his ridiculous smirk or grin- an actual smile, "Wow, you're cute as hell."

Too drunk to comprehend how to handle his compliment, she covered her face and giggled. He chuckled at her reaction, running his thumb down the side of her face after shooing her hands away. MacCready looked contemplative, debating something in his mind before he swung his leg up and collapsed next to her.

Quinn turned on to her side and looked at him curiously, her breathing finally coming down to somewhere near normal. Her lips curled into a tired smile, "Are you... blue-balling me, _MacCready_?"

He laughed and snaked an arm under her neck, pulling her in and squishing her against himself to kiss her forehead, "Mhm. Don't think I'm not suffering here, too."

MacCready's voice had grown somewhat distant, the long night catching up with him, too, "You're suuuper drunk. I'm suuuuuuuuuuper drunk. You've put up with a lot of my shit and, Quinn, you deserve me at my top form. Unf."

She rolled her eyes, trying her best not to encourage him with laughter, "You're the worst... RJ."

The mercenary shimmied down, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck, "Don't you worry. I'm gonna get my chance to enjoy the _fuck_ out of you, angel. Mark my words."

As if waking from a deep sleep with a start, Quinn shot up in the Memory Lounger and narrowly missed hitting her head on the static filled screen. The Lounger opened with a low hiss and she climbed out on shaking knees. 

Irma waved a hand to her from her usual spot with a cloud of cigarette smoke rising above her perfectly kept hair, "Enjoy yourself, sweetheart?"

Quinn raised her hand to acknowledge the blonde, turning around and heading towards the exit. She wasn't sure if she was feeling all out of sorts from the invasive procedure or from the memories themselves. It felt like she'd truly relived the memory from the previous night, her heart racing, stomach knotted and cheeks hot. Flustered didn't even begin to cover it. 

"Wow. Uh. Wow." She had no other words to describe what she was feeling, pushing open the door to the Memory Den and going back out to the streets of Goodneighbor. There was a lot going through her mind, something wet jolting her out of her thoughts. She looked down and Dogmeat barked, nudging his nose against her hand. 

About to ask him what he was doing out on his own, she noticed two very distinctive jackets down the street. MacCready and Hancock were standing near the entrance of Hotel Rexford, smoking and looking mighty amused with one another- nothing out of the ordinary for the two of them. She accepted that she was going to have to face MacCready at some point; Goodneighbor wasn't exactly a sprawling town and running down the street in an attempt to dodge them would be insane. Quinn thought about it, though.

"Would ya look who it is!" Hancock shouted over to her, MacCready flicking his spent cigarette down to the pavement and looking over at her.

Sighing inwardly, she walked over to them with Dogmeat loitering around behind her- sniffing around for anything new.

"You were up early," MacCready glanced at his watch, his tired eyes telling her he was in need of a hell of a lot more sleep, "Did you come out of the Memory Den?"

Quinn nodded, choosing to ignore the knowing grin on Hancock's face, "Mhm. Irma said I could drop by whenever and I thought I'd try my luck again."

The mayor leaned against the brick wall of the hotel and Quinn braced herself for the smart ass remark she was about to hear, "Did you? Get lucky, Quinn?"

She gave a look so sharp to Hancock that he didn't press any further. He snickered and Quinn reminded herself that he'd given her a great talk earlier and that it wouldn't be fair to kill him. 

MacCready looked between the two, confused and too hungover to ask any questions. Quinn forced a yawn out, heading to the hotel's main doors, "I'm going back to sleep. The hangover is real."

The two men nodded and before she stepped into the hotel, she waved a hand casually to MacCready, "See you later, RJ."

The second his name left her mouth, she froze and glanced over to him. He was watching her curiously, seeming only vaguely alarmed at her use of his real name but, to her relief, in his continued MacCready fashion he didn't question her. Yet.

Quinn smiled and hurried into the hotel, hoping neither of them noticed how much she was blushing.


	19. A Very Merry Christmas Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, everyone! Thanks for reading, commenting and giving me kudos. I've been having a lot of fun writing this. Here's some Christmas fluff! Gonna be on a little hiatus for all the holiday things. I'm also gonna put in some game time and develop more bits and pieces to translate into the story.

"Thanks, Daisy." Quinn smiled at the ghoul, tapping the envelope she'd picked up from her on the scuffed counter, "I'll be back later for some goods; I'm trying to teach MacCready that alcohol isn't food."

Daisy let out a husky laugh, beginning to wipe down the counter with a cloth, "I look forward to it. The next caravan should be in today- I might have more inventory for Christmas."

Quinn waved back at Daisy in acknowledgment, smiling to herself. It was a pleasant surprise to find out the Commonwealth still celebrated Christmas. Quinn had no idea if she or her family were Christmas people in her forgotten life, but once she heard it was still a holiday in the wasteland she made a conscious decision to celebrate it. 

Quinn ripped open the letter, removing the folded piece of paper from it and shoving the envelope into her back pocket. It had been two weeks since she received her last letter from Preston and just over a month since he left Goodneighbor to undertake the task of recruiting people to help in their fight against the Institute. Living in a world with a lack of instant communication made Quinn feel a level of anxiety she couldn't make MacCready understand and she was in a constant state of stress waiting to hear from Preston or for him to return. 

**_Quinn & MacCready,_ **

**_I've got some good news to report! I managed to track down a veteran of the old guard Minutemen: Ronnie Shaw. She's agreed to offer us assistance in combing the Commonwealth for others. It's going to be a time consuming venture and hopefully well worth it._ **

**_It's not a solid lead yet, but she did mention a few factions that may want to join the cause. Surprising nobody, the Institute has a lot of enemies out here. I'm going to look into these groups before I consider them a solid lead._ **

**_I hope you're both well (Dogmeat, too). Take care of one another._ **

**_P.S- I'll be heading up north to Sanctuary at some point in the near future. If you'd like to send a reply there, I'd love to hear you from. Hopefully the timing will work. Even if it misses me I know Mama and Sturges would want to know you're doing alright._ **

Quinn smiled down at the paper, thrilled to know Preston was doing okay out there. Thinking about the Institute made her nauseous and she made a point to remind herself that the news was positive. Besides, it was Christmas Eve and she was in a good mood- she didn't want to think too much about what might be down the road.

As quietly as she could, Quinn opened the door to MacCready's suite and poked her head in. Both the mercenary and the hound were sprawled out on the bed still fast asleep. She entered the room and placed Preston's letter on to the dresser, moving over and sitting on the edge of the bed. Dogmeat stirred and rolled over on to his back for her to scratch his stomach.

"Hey there, boy," She whispered close to his ear, smiling down at him and scratching up and down his underside much to his joy.

"Boy? Wow, I have a name, you know."

Quinn turned her head to see MacCready rolling over to face her, rubbing his eyes with a lopsided grin on his face. She giggled and slapped him on his arm, "So you're annoying first thing in the morning, too?"

He swatted back at her lazily, missing her entirely, "Geez. And you're violent first thing in the morning? The _abuse_ I put up with."

"It's not first thing for me. I've been awake for hours, unlike you two," Quinn stuck her tongue out at him and hopped up and away from the bed to dodge MacCready's hand again, "Can't handle your liquor anymore, Mac?"

Quinn formed an instant attachment to MacCready's preferred name and had a difficult time remembering to call him by his last since visiting the Memory Den, but she wasn't sure what to say if he ever asked her how she knew the name nobody used. Making a conscious effort not to call him RJ again was still tough even after a month. 

Dogmeat jumped down to the floor as MacCready climbed out of bed looking exhausted and still, to her great annoyance, distractingly handsome, "I drank you under the table last night. I earned my extra sleep." 

"Uh huh," Quinn flashed him a smile, returning to the dresser and pulling out a drawer to hunt for her small cap stash. MacCready came up behind her and place a hand gently on her waist, causing her to stiffen. She stood up straight and felt his chest against her back. He leaned against her and reached over to grab the letter off the dresser.

"Preston still kicking out there?" MacCready unfolded the letter and settled into his armchair, leaving Quinn standing there feeling breathless. She sighed to herself and resumed digging through the dresser drawer- finding the caps and pretending to rifle around for the sake of not having to face him. 

Things had felt off since Quinn collected her thoughts of their drunken night; she couldn't help but see MacCready differently. She could admit to herself that there was a glimmer of _something_ she felt for him beyond friendship before she'd left for Sanctuary and at this point it had gone off the rails. Neither of them had so much as mentioned their kiss, or what happened in the suite- making Quinn uncertain if MacCready remembered any of it. A tiny part of her was self conscious to think that he _did_ remember it and chose to pretend it didn't happen. Quinn swore she could feel tension radiating between them at times and the way he looked at her... None of it felt like something she could bring up and considering she now had a very blurred line between like and pure want she made an executive decision to leave it be.

"Well, damn. Guess it pays to have likable allies," MacCready chuckled at his own joke, placing the letter on to the coffee table next to their usual array of bottles, "Do you want to write back right now? I can bring it down to Daisy."

Quinn nodded and grabbed the worn pad of paper and a pen from the top of the dresser, settling with her back against a wall to collect her thoughts. Once she'd finished, she folded the paper in half and looked up at MacCready, "Done! I'll come down with you."

MacCready got up and took the paper she had held up, grabbing his rucksack and heading to the door, "Don't worry about it. Pack some stuff up; I'm gonna buy some supplies from Daisy and KL-E-0 and then we're headed to Diamond City."

Quinn blinked up at him, surprised by the news, "Oh? Aren't I under Goodneighbor arrest?"

"Don't worry. I'll protect you," MacCready winked at her and closed the door behind him, leaving her sitting in silence with her running mind. Quinn tilted her head back against the wall and groaned.

Quinn and MacCready were out on the road later than they'd anticipated, making the mistake of letting Hancock convince them to have drinks with him before they set off. After the buzz faded, they left Goodneighbor with Dogmeat in tow- the hound ecstatic to leave the gates of the town.

"Why Diamond City?" Quinn finished tying her hair up into a ponytail, the back of her neck dripping sweat in the December heat. So much for a white Christmas. 

MacCready was checking the sights of his rifle, somehow managing to step over every crack in the road and piece of debris, "I figured you were getting stir crazy cooped up in Goodneighbor. We could probably benefit from at least one night this week not completely shi-.. drunk."

Quinn nodded "Yeah, I guess you're right. Definitely about the whole stir crazy thing. Living on two blocks, at most, is an... experience."

The mercenary slung the rifle on his back and stretched his arms up with a yawn, "Unless you're on the road or drinking yourself blind, there's not a heck of a lot of interesting thing to do in the wasteland."

"I'm surprised there aren't tons of kids running around," Quinn mused, keeping an eye on Dogmeat as he excitedly explored every possible thing he could. He brought her a tattered baseball and she tossed it for him to chase after.

"Huh?"

"Well," Quinn clapped her hands together to call Dogmeat back over with the baseball, "When people don't have much to do..."

MacCready looked over at her, raising an eyebrow in mock seduction, "They do... each other?"

She snorted and shrugged, "Yup."

"And you call me a pervert. You're sick," He cracked a grin at her, snatching the ball from her hands and teasing Dogmeat with it.

It was just past sundown when they'd started to see the Diamond City guards patrolling the streets, Quinn's anxiety climbing back down. She was getting nervous at the idea of roaming the city streets in the dark, needing MacCready to assure her numerously that they were going to make it to the city before true dark hit. He wasn't a fan of travelling at night, either, telling her it was one of the most dangerous things someone could do- especially in the metropolitan areas.

The massive gates of Diamond City rose upwards and he turned to smirk at her, "See? I'm a man of my word."

Quinn rolled her eyes, speaking with playful sarcasm, "Oh wow, MacReady, you are like so amazing."

"Get in there," MacCready put his hand on her back and pushed her towards the city's entrance doors playfully.

He moved ahead of her and pulled one of the doors open, ushering her in with an expression she couldn't quite read. She gave him a look that asked him silently why he was being strange, but she stopped in her tracks at the top of the Diamond City stairs. Looking out at the city, Quinn raised a hand to her mouth. There were Christmas lights hanging all around the marketplace and a few trees standing with the same lights wrapped around them.

"Holy shit," She spoke in awe, feeling her eyes beginning to sting. The Commonwealth was a definitively bleak place and seeing the coloured lights illuminating the city felt dream-like.

MacCready stood next to her, his eyes on her long enough for her to feel it, "Wait. Mac, is this why we came here?"

He shrugged, clearly hiding a smile, "Maybe. Come on, let's grab some noodles. I'm starving."

Without another word, he started down the stairs and Quinn took a moment to follow, watching him with curiosity. She caught up with him and decided not to say anything else, enjoying the lights framing the small city. They mostly ate in the same silence, MacCready preoccupied with and enjoying his two bowls of noodles a little _too _much, Quinn feeling like a child at how light her heart felt looking around the marketplace. It was hard enough to imagine Christmas being a thing in the Commonwealth, let alone Christmas with good old fashioned decorations. There was a nostalgic glow in her stomach and she felt truly happy, eating her dinner with a smile glued to her face.__

__"Come here, I've got something to show you," MacCready pulled his jacket back on after finishing his meal, grabbing his gear and heading off towards the Wall._ _

__Quinn whistled to Dogmeat and trailed behind MacCready. When the Wall was in view, he signaled for her to be quiet with a finger to his lips and continue after him. Following a few miscommunications due to their inability to make noise and quelled laughter, the trio were sitting high up in the stadium seating with a full view of the city below._ _

__"It's beautiful," Quinn leaned forward fro her seat, "Ya know.. When you're above ground and the smell can't get to you. And you can't see the grime."_ _

__MacCready laughed, putting a foot up on the seat in front of him, "I'm glad your highness is happy."_ _

__"Hmmm, your highness is moderately satisfied."_ _

__He lit a cigarette and took an inhale, the smoke trailing out as he spoke, "I aim to please."_ _

__Quinn admired the colourful lights below them, relishing again in the happiness she felt. There was plenty she could choose to nit pick in her weird, whirlwind Commonwealth life but she was lucky enough to sit there with her two favourite companions on Christmas Eve. No matter the situation, she realized it could be so much worse. What if the Institute themselves came to collect her from the vault? What would be happening to her?_ _

__The disturbing thoughts swirled around, MacCready's voice breaking her out of it, "What's on your mind?"_ _

__She looked over to him and decided not to open the Institute can of worms, grabbing at the topic she could think of, "I feel like I don't know much about you, Mac."_ _

__"Huh," He leaned back, speaking thoughtfully, "I'd say you know me better than anyone out here."_ _

__His comment made her smile, "Okay, that's fair. That might be true _but_ , you never talk about your life."_ _

__MacCready continued to smoke, looking up at the sky, "Wellllllll, let's see. I'm a completely self-taught sniper, you know. Picked up a rifle when I was ten and I never looked back. Always thought it was smarter to hit my targets at long range. I mean, why take chances, right?"_ _

__Quinn turned in her seat to face him as he spoke, hanging her arm over the back rest, "Besides, I had to come up with every trick in the book to survive the Capital Wasteland."_ _

__"I'm sure your parents were real thrilled about your hobby."_ _

__"Never knew my parents," MacCready shrugged, pausing for another drag, "Lived underground in a place called Little Lamplight with a bunch of other kids. Left there when I was around sixteen. We kind of had a policy there- no adults. When you were sixteen, you packed up and left."_ _

__Quinn wasn't sure if she was supposed to take him seriously or if he was pulling her leg. Knowing the wasteland, and knowing his sense of humour made both options likely._ _

__He glanced over at her with a grin, "I know it sounds crazy, but having adults around was something we couldn't trust."_ _

__Quinn tilted her head, not prepared to hear something that outlandish, "How could a bunch of kids survive without help? I figure legal age doesn't exist anymore, but it used to be that you weren't considered an adult until eighteen. Kids fifteen and under living alone? How?"_ _

__"Everyone pulled their own weight," MacCready spoke matter-of-factly, "Just like a colony you'd find anywhere we all had our designated jobs and we watched each other's backs. Can you believe I was actually the mayor for awhile? Me? Crazy, I know."_ _

__Quinn burst out laughing, pushing him on his shoulder, "Shut up, you're lying!"_ _

__He flicked his cigarette out, the small burning light disappearing in the stands below, "I'm one hundred percent serious. When I hit sixteen, I ended up wandering the Capital Wasteland for awhile."_ _

__MacCready's voice trailed off, falling silent as if thinking about how to continue, "I took the odd job here and there, but things were pretty hot with the Brotherhood of Steel running the show. So, I hitched a ride with a caravan and made my way north until I ended up here. Made a pretty decent name for myself before I heard that the Gunners needed sharpshooters.."_ _

__He sighed, making no effort to hide the disappointment in his voice, "Biggest mistake of my life. They were animals. Killed anything that moved if it got in their way. I went with it for awhile because the caps were good. But... I dunno. I guess it started to catch up with me. So I quit."_ _

__It was dark but Quinn could see he had a faraway look, staring out at nothing in particular. She put her hand on his bicep and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He shook himself from whatever he was thinking about, looking at her with the slightest smile, "That pretty much brings us to now. So there you have it, my whole life in a nutshell."_ _

__Quinn remained quiet briefly, feeling a little stunned at the life he'd lived, "Sounds like the road can be lonely as hell. Until you meet someone really awesome to hang out with."_ _

__MacCready chuckled, "Hmm. I guess I never thought of it that way. I've spent a lot of time being the lone mongrel type- makes it pretty special that you now officially know more about me than anyone else in the Commonwealth."_ _

__She placed her hand on her chest, speaking obnoxiously, "Aren't I just the luckiest girl in all the land?"_ _

__He grinned momentarily, but it faltered as he cleared his throat. MacCready spoke again, his words slow and careful, "Look... I know I tend to be a pain in the a-.. I mean, I know I tend to be arrogant and I come off like I want to be alone. Nothing could be further from the truth. Being alone scares the heck out of me."_ _

__The mercenary wasn't looking at her, his expression veiled, "Now that we've been traveling together for awhile, I'm beginning to realize how much I missed having someone to depend on. I just want you to know that I'm gonna do everything I can to see that it stays this way; I don't want to see you go ever again. Having "someone really awesome" to hang out with has been the best thing to happen for me in a long time."_ _

__Quinn didn't realize she'd been holding her breath, each word that left his mouth making her feel something she didn't have a name for, "Mac.."_ _

__"Well," He tilted over to bump their shoulders together, turning his head to finally look at her, "That's all I had to say. Hope you got something out of all that. I know I did."_ _

__They held one another's gaze and although they were both silent it didn't feel uncomfortable. Quinn could feel that familiar tension buzzing between them, blinking up at him. He leaned in closer to her, about to speak when shouting in unison broke out below in Diamond City._ _

__It sounded like "Merry Christmas" and they both looked down below to see where it had come from. There was a small crowd of people outside of the Dugout Inn, cheering with their hands in the air. Quinn assumed those hands were filled with all kinds of shots and beer bottles._ _

__MacCready glanced at his watch, "Oh sh-...shoot. The drunks are right- it's officially Christmas."_ _

__Quinn beamed, shifting to face her bag at her feet, keen to dig around in it. She pulled out something wrapped in brown paper, turning to hand it to MacCready. The duo broke out into laughter, both of them holding gifts out to the other. They exchanged the packages and Quinn placed hers on her lap, "You first!"_ _

__MacCready pulled at the strings and ripped open the paper, revealing a military grade watch. He stared down at it, speechless momentarily, "I've been keeping my eye on this at Daisy's shop."_ _

__"I know," Quinn was pleased with MacCready's reaction, "I changed it a little- I hope you don't mind. I made a top coat and used it on the face so it won't reflect any light- keep you hidden better and aid in the whole not getting shot thing."_ _

__MacCready finished putting his new watch on to the thick leather band he always wore, tilting his wrist around to test it's glare-or lack thereof. He looked impressed, "It's perfect."_ _

__Quinn spoke while opening up her gift, tugging at the strings MacCready had knotted tightly, "I'm glad you like it. You looked at it every time we went to Daisy's and I always expected you to buy it, but you never did."_ _

__"Well, I was saving up." He watched her work her way into the package, smiling at her reaction._ _

__"Mac'!" Quinn had opened up a box to reveal a pre-war digital Polaroid camera and a stack of film cartridges, her eyes widening in excitement, "This is so cool! How did you get this?"_ _

__MacCready was still smiling, shrugging nonchalantly, "Daisy reached out to the caravans she knew. Hancock did me a solid and had his scavenging teams keep an eye out. It's a common find- just rare not smashed to heck. At least batteries are easy to come by."_ _

__Quinn turned the camera over in her hands, taking in every detail, "This is seriously so, so, so cool."_ _

__"I'm happy to hear it. I wouldn't be surprised if we never found film again, but bright side is that it can save pictures on to it? I think that's what Daisy said.. Something about older pre-war models being film only? Uhh, I think."_ _

__She laughed and nodded, "Yeah. Film was practically dead. Most cameras were digital and had been for a long time. Film made a comeback, though. Everyone loved vintage shit."_ _

__Quinn carefully set the camera back into it's box, placing it on the empty seat next to her. She turned back to MacCready and wrapped her arms around him in a sideways hug, "Thank you. It's really amazing. Thank you, thank you."_ _

__MacCready tilted his head, his temple resting against her forehead, "You're welcome. I uhh.. well. I know how much it upsets you that you don't remember your past. I thought you could make and keep new ones.. or something like that."_ _

__He was stumbling over his words, laughing at himself in embarrassment, "I'm just glad you like it."_ _

__Quinn refused to let herself cry, but it was a battle hard won; MacCready's thoughtfulness was tugging at her heartstrings. Her arms remained around him and she squeezed him as hard as she could, "I love it."_ _

__She relinquished her hold on him to settle back in to her seat, only realizing then that MacCready's arm had found its way around her waist at some point while she hugged him. Blushing under the cover of darkness, Quinn grabbed the camera and fiddled with it. After turning it on, she adjusted how she held it to face the lens towards them, "Come here."_ _

__"Huh? Oh Jesu-!" Quinn cut MacCready off with a hand on his jacket lapel, tugging him in close to her. The sudden movement startled Dogmeat and he leapt up on to them with a bark, Quinn laughing as the flash went off._ _

__"I'm never gonna need the watch you got me because I'm blind now," MacCready blinked rapidly, scratching the back of Dogmeat's neck._ _

__"You'll live," Quinn gave MacCready a pat on his thigh, shaking the Polaroid print out around with her free hand._ _

__She slid down in her seat enough to comfortably put her feet up on the seat in front of her as MacCready had, looking up at the starry sky. Sometimes, the Commonwealth could be beautiful. It was rare to see stars like this before. MacCready's arm slid over her shoulders and she leaned in to put her head on his shoulder without a second thought._ _

__"Merry Christmas, Quinn." He squeezed her, his voice softer than usual. It had been since he opened up to her about his life. Quinn found it comforting, feeling for the first time in a month that she didn't have to feel insecure or question whatever it was that was happening between them. Right then it just was what it was and that worked for her._ _

__Quinn looked down at the developed photo. The old film didn't process as she knew it usually did, the colours coming through muted and the focus off, but the image itself was clear enough. Quinn was mid-laughter with Dogmeat's blurry nose-in-motion poking up into the frame and MacCready was looking at her fondly with a smile._ _

__Quinn tucked the photo into her jacket pocket, sinking in against him and sighing contentedly, "Merry Christmas, Mac."_ _


	20. Fair Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I said there would be a hiatus but I'm a filthy liar.

"Does it ever snow in the wasteland?" Quinn asked in exasperation, strands of her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, "Or like.. are there seasons? Anything that's not sweltering hot?"

MacCready had his duster draped over his shoulder, his scarf tied around his waist, "Hate to break it to you- the Commonwealth is really hot, hot, less hot and then sometimes rainy to cool things off if we're lucky. Snow's just a thing I've heard in stories."

She groaned dramatically, her shoulders slumping, "Ughhhhhhh, I hate it. I hate it so much. How does anyone sleep properly out here? I sure as hell haven't."

"You snore like you do," MacCready spoke without missing a beat, eyeing Quinn for her reaction.

Her mouth fell open immediately, throwing the empty purified water canister she'd been holding at him, "I do _not_ snore!"

Well prepared for her ire, he swatted the canister out of the air with a huge grin on his face, "You also insist your head isn't dented from the big tumble, but we both know what's under those bangs."

"Fuck you, MacCready," Quinn huffed, scooping a rock off the road and tossing it at him, "This is why you don't have friends."

MacCready ducked to avoid the rock, grabbing the strap of her gear bag and tugging her to him. He bear hugged her, walking backwards awkwardly and continuing to take her with him, "Aw, that's not true. _You're_ my friend."

With her arms pinned to her sides, she had her chin pressed to his chest, looking up at him with narrowed eyes, "Yeah, yeah. Keep it up."

He let her go and grinned and before she knew it she was grinning right back, doing her best to not laugh. They returned to walking back to Goodneighbor in comfortable silence, playing catch with Dogmeat down the long road ahead. Their moods had been markedly elevated since Christmas, and the air between them had never been clearer since before she'd left for Sanctuary months back. They were back to their endless banter, sinking into their cozy relationship once again- whatever that meant. 

"So- backtracking here. What were seasons like?" MacCready was chewing on a piece of mole rat jerky, Dogmeat following him closely in hopes for the mercenary to share with him.

Quinn took awhile to answer, realizing just how difficult it was to explain things that, for all intents and purposes, she didn't have a tangible memory to attach to, "Hmmm. Okay. There were four seasons: spring, summer, fall, and winter. Summer and winter were the main seasons- the wasteland is basically a permanent summer, and winter was cold and snowy. Spring was the time between winter and summer where it started to warm up, and fall was between summer and winter where it started to cool down."

MacCready seemed genuinely intrigued, Quinn almost able to hear the gears turning while he processed the new information, "The closest thing I can compare to seasons would be sunny and hot as frick, and then grey and rainy back in the Capitol Wasteland."

"I miss being able to wear more than a tank or t-shirt and jeans without melting. If I could get away with it without cutting my legs all to hell, I'd be wearing shorts. It's too hot for pants."

MacCready smirked over his shoulder at her, "Quinn, I told you I'd protect you. That includes those legs, so you can feel completely free to run around in shorts if you want to."

"Have I not thrown enough stuff at you today?" She was laughing, shaking her head at him.

He shrugged, putting on an over-the-top frown, "Hey, I'm just trying to be helpful."

They spent their journey chatting back and forth about the things they wondered about one another's worlds between games of tag and catch with Dogmeat. The road had been pleasantly kind to them and Quinn felt, again, like she didn't have any weight on her shoulders. Spending time with MacCready often had that effect on her. 

MacCready glanced down at his watch, "We're not gonna make it back to Goodneighbor before nightfall. That area's way too dangerous for me to want to wander around in the dark. Goodneighbor doesn't have the cushion of guards patrolling the outer blocks like Diamond City."

He surveyed the area around them, continuing, "Because of _someone's_ short little legs, we're way behind."

Quinn looked to Dogmeat incredulously, "Now he has a problem with my legs."

MacCready found them an ever-so-lightly less demolished studio suite in an apartment building that had seen much better days, the perks including a door that closed and windows covered in planks. Truly the post-apocalyptic upper class amenities. 

Laying across what could barely count as a couch, Quinn piped up to MacCready who was laying out their options for food, "I would like to remind you that we were on the road late because _you_ spent forever talking to Arturo about mods."

A protein bar of some kind landed on her chest from where he sat on the other couch opposite the coffee table, "Just eat, short stuff."

At some point, Quinn dozed off into a light sleep sprawled on the couch, falling somewhere between the dream and waking world. There were faraway images swirling around involving her Commonwealth life- MacCready, Preston, Dogmeat, Hancock, the bed she'd learned to love in Hotel Rexford, endless laughter, warm and strong hands on her waist, stubble against her neck and..

She was startled awake by something touching her face, her eyes shooting open to see a shape over her that she couldn't make out in the darkness. Quinn tried to shout, but there was a hand tight over her mouth. Her heart was pounding out of her chest and she tried to scream for MacCready's name.

"Shhh, shhh, Quinn. It's me. Quiet." It was MacCready's hushed voice and she instantly calmed, her hand raising to touch the hand over her mouth, "I heard something in the halls- I didn't want your snoring to alert whoever it is."

Quinn dropped her hand in defeat, her eyes rolling. MacCready snorted, amused with himself as always. He removed his hand from her mouth, "Come on, let's get something in front of the door. That sh-.. garbage lock won't hold if we need it to."

She nodded and got up off of the couch, her and MacCready doing their best to move a heavy shelf in front of the door. Afterwards, he slowly- painfully so- pulled at the edges of the thin plank covering one of the windows to reveal that behind it was a fire escape, "It's past midnight. We can't go out there unless we _really_ need to. The options there, though."

Dogmeat sat in front of the shelf dutifully, his ears perked up to listen for any sounds he found troubling. MacCready took Quinn by the forearm and lead her to the corner of the apartment closest to their escape plan, lowering himself to the floor and pulling her down with him. They sat shoulder to shoulder in the darkness, joining Dogmeat in listening for anything out there. There were creaks and indistinct voices that moved to the floor above them. 

Quinn moved to unholster the 10mm on her thigh, but MacCready's hand stopped her. Instead, he unholstered his, whispering "Keep resting. I've got watch, short stuff."

She wanted to hate that nickname, but coming from him it sounded alright. More than alright. Not that she'd let him know that, leaning up and whispering back into his ear, "Is that a thing now?"

"You bet it is. Rest." 

Quinn was so tired she couldn't argue it, tilting her head back against the wall. It wasn't long before she felt herself dozing, her head falling forward. She repeated this process a handful of times, when finally MacCready's hand pushed the side of her head to lean against his shoulder. She heard him mutter something along the lines of "stubborn girl" and she giggled sleepily.

"Mmm..you're comfy." She nuzzled against his shoulder, halfway to dreamland.

The last thing she recalled before falling asleep completely was MacCready's hand brushing through her hair. There were no dreams this time, only comfortable darkness that felt like it only last moments; when she opened her eyes it was morning, the sun lighting up the whole apartment.

Quinn rubbed her eyes, not ready to be awake, "What time is it?"

She looked up when MacCready didn't reply, his head so heavy against hers because he was asleep. It always surprised her how much softer his features were when he was asleep, lacking his furrowed brow and tense jaw. There he was, the twenty-two year old. Quinn wondered what MacCready would be like if he'd been from her time. Would his personality be entirely different? Would he be in school? What would he do for a job? He was a sarcastic pain in the ass, but she'd always enjoyed him. Since the first days he was taking care of her, she'd found him magnetic in his own prickly way. Would they get along just as well if they met pre-war?

Quinn was so lost in her ever-expanding thoughts that it took her a bit to realize MacCready was looking back at her, "Got something on my face?"

"I'm honestly too tired to even come up with something witty right now," She got to her feet with a groan, her stiff body disagreeing with her. Deflecting with sass was her speciality, "Was just noticing how nice you look when you're not scowling or grinning at me like some kind of doofus."

MacCready laughed at that, following suit in getting up and returning his handgun to its holster, "Oooo, so you're also verbally abuse in the morning?"

She was petting Dogmeat, shooting a look back at MacCready without a word, which made him laugh even more.

They were out on the road again by eight in the morning, dragging themselves through a light breakfast of assorted snacks and ensuring the coast was clear before they made their way back out of the apartment building. They walked in tired silence, even Dogmeat acting with less pep- unlike MacCready he seemed to have stayed up all night watching the door. 

"I can't wait to get to Rexford and sleep more," MacCready brushed back his hair and placed his hat back on his head. They were so close to Goodneighbor, just a half a block away.

Quinn was about to reply when a voice beat her to it, "Hey, MacCready. I can help you with that. Give you a real long sleep."

They both stopped in their tracks, looking forward to see a woman standing there with a gun pointed at them. MacCready was in front of Quinn with his gun drawn quicker than she could even process what was happening, "Roxy. Long time no see. What brings you to Goodneighbor?"

The woman grinned so big, Quinn could see it from over MacCready's shoulder. It was predatory- like a shark. It was easy to see from the way she dressed that she was a Gunner, decked out in green from head to toe, "You know why I'm here, MacCready."

MacCready was tense, the way he had been when he had to face Winlock and Barnes at The Third Rail, "Didn't think you'd care enough to avenge those two idiots, Roxy."

Roxy laughed, the sound making Quinn's skin crawl, "Avenge them? Fuck no. I'm here to take up the contract on your girlfriend. There's a lot of caps on the line for that little cutie."

"Those caps don't compare to what you and your squad make in week and we both know it."

"The squad made bets on who could nab her once we found out about the contract on Winlock's terminal, ya know, while we cleaned up the mess you made at Mass Pike. You know how much we love making bets, MacCready," Roxy kept the gun up, her hand not wavering.

MacCready sounded disgusted, "Yeah. I do. Can we not do this, Roxy? I killed Winlock and Barnes. I killed everyone on the bridge."

Roxy continued on, not even listening to him, "She really is cute. I gotta say, MacCready, _knowing what I know_ \- she doesn't seem like your type. I recall you like your women with claws."

The way she emphasized her phrasing made Quinn feel a pang of jealousy. Jealousy while standing on the other end of a gun. She sighed to herself, her hand moving to touch the holster on her thigh.

MacCready repeated himself, " _Can we not do this, Roxy?_ "

Roxy was still grinning, using her free hand to brush long, dark hair behind her ear, "Nah. We gotta."

That's when the gunfire started. And that's where everything went wrong. 

As soon as the first shot rang out, MacCready was strafing to the left while continuing to fire, his hand behind him to hold on to Quinn's wrist to take her with him. He used the momentum to push her into an alley, disappearing forward in his gunfight against Roxy. Quinn shouted after MacCready, and then at Dogmeat to go help him, but the dog stayed standing guard at her feet. 

Quinn could hear Roxy between bullets, "Oh come on, MacCready! Why don't we hand her in for the caps and go on one of our benders for old time sake?" 

MacCready returned fire, still, his voice still relatively close to the alley, "My time with the Gunners was a bender, Roxy. I'm sober right now and with the additional daylight I've gotta say- I'll pass."

Suddenly, three shots went off and MacCready fell to the ground in front of the alley Quinn stood in, the unmistakable red of blood beginning to soak through his jacket. 

"Mac!" Quinn screamed for him, Dogmeat darting out of the alley, over MacCready and after his assailant. 

Quinn was on auto-pilot, moving without any thought. She could feel MacCready's hand graze her calf as she jumped over him in an attempt to stop her from doing what she was about to do, but that wasn't going to happen. It was too late. Leaving the alley and turning to the left, she saw Dogmeat lunging for Roxy, the Gunner caught off guard while she was reloading her weapon. He took her to the ground, tearing at her with his strong jaws.

"Dogmeat, off." Quinn spoke firmly, every inch of her body trembling with what she figured was rage. The hound obliged and as soon as he did, Quinn was on top of Roxy, her right hand balled into a fist and hitting the woman over and over in the face.

"Get off me, bitch!" Roxy hit Quinn in the chin with an upward swing, causing her to fall back with a groan. She'd never been punched before, at least in this life, and it was a hell of a first blow.

Roxy was on top of Quinn, straddling her with strong legs, "I can't kill you if I want my caps, but I'm gonna make you fucking regret that."

The Gunner clasped her hands together and slammed down on Quinn's chest and she felt like she wasn't going to be able to take a breath. Quinn thought of MacCready, laying there and bleeding and she knew she couldn't lose to Roxy. She had to save him. Thinking of him reminded her of something he'd taught her and she threw her fist at Roxy's throat as hard as she could muster. The move was a success and she grabbed at her throat with wide eyes- stunned.

Quinn struggled underneath the woman, managing to pull the 10mm from the leather holster Roxy's thigh was squishing against her own, "Maybe I don't have claws but I have a fucking gun!"

Roxy had no time to react, Quinn pulling the trigger three times. Twice in the chest and once in the head- right between the eyes like MacCready had taught her.

There wasn't a second rejoice in her victory, running back to where MacCready was laying. He wasn't moving and there was so much blood. Quinn dropped to her knees and shook him, sheer panic starting to set in. There was some kind of calm collection to how quickly she'd reacted against Roxy and that was officially gone. MacCready was breathing, but now there was blood coming from the corners of his mouth. She took him from under the arms and tried to lift him the best she could, his unconscious weight making it difficult.

With tears streaming down her face, she dragged MacCready towards the front gates of Goodneighbor. They were so close, the neon lights displaying the town's name only meters away. Losing her footing, she fell back on to the cement, her friend's body slumped on to her. 

That's when she started to scream for Hancock, for anyone, to help them.


	21. Unrestrained

"RJ," The voice repeated itself in the darkness and MacCready followed. He always followed in this dream. 

The mercenary no longer walked slowly or with caution as he used to, having repeated this so many times before. There was always darkness, there was a always a voice, and he always followed. The layout never changed- it was the floor plan to his farm out in the Capital Wasteland. 

"RJ, where are you?"

MacCready started to climb the stairs, pausing to sigh as his hand touched the railing. Seeing her was always the best part of this routine- that was until he awoke to know she wasn't going to be there. 

Lucy. His beautiful, lovely, kind Lucy. The woman he never deserved. The moment he laid eyes on her and she smiled he knew that he was gonna marry her and he regretted not knowing in that moment that he was going to get her killed, too.

He continued up the stairs, smiling at the familiar feeling of the wooden banister. MacCready never said it out loud, but he missed the farm. He missed home. He missed Duncan. 

At the top of the landing, he mouthed along to the words he knew he'd hear, "Where'd you go, RJ?"

Making his way down the hall, he felt his stomach begin to knot. It always happened the second he saw the door to his bedroom; that's where she was. He was excited to see her, but he was never ready to wake. It hurt too much. He put his hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath.

"RJ?"

"I'm coming," MacCready pushed open the door and froze in the doorway.

It was different. It was never different and now..

"Well, _that's_ a whole new doofus look for the books. I didn't know your eyes went that big."

MacCready couldn't move, "...Quinn?"

She looked at him weird from her spot on the bed, her legs crossed. He realized then they weren't in his farmhouse bedroom, but in the Hotel Rexford suite, "As far as I know my name hasn't changed."

He felt scared and vulnerable- the dream didn't happen this way. Closing the door gently behind him, he continued to watch her as if she was about to transform into a monster.

Quinn's expression softened and she tilted her head curiously, "Mac? Are you okay?"

The way she looked at him disarmed him instantly, her eyes always so sweet when she wasn't giving him some kind of attitude. MacCready braced himself with a breath, walking across the room and sitting down next to her, "Yeah. I'm okay. What are you doing?"

Quinn raised the pad of paper she had resting on her lap, "Writing Preston. I hope he comes back soon. I hate worrying all the time."

MacCready smiled at that. He rarely smiled, even around her; it made him feel exposed. Instead he'd grin like an idiot, or smirked. But this was a dream, he could take a wall or two down, right? He deserved some sort of award because it was hard not to smile around Quinn, "I know you do. He's fine out there. Garvey knows what he's doing."

"Hmm, yeah." She nodded and put the pad of paper back on her knee, returning to writing.

The girl out of time. The total wild card. After Lucy had died, and Duncan fell ill, MacCready was a man without hope. The only thing that kept him alive was the need to find a cure for Duncan and then there _she_ was. MacCready found Quinn in that vault and before he knew it, before he realized it, living wasn't painful. It only began to feel complicated when he didn't know what that meant. Every waking moment of his was used to mourn Lucy, to blame himself for Duncan until it wasn't. Unexpectedly- it was Quinn. Lucy didn't disappear. He didn't love or miss her less, but there was room in his heart for more. The need for Duncan's cure didn't disappear. He didn't feel the need to find it any less, but there was room for him to worry about someone else, too. 

Maybe it wasn't complicated like he thought. No. It was simple. 

Quinn made everything better- not in the way a night drunk out of his mind would, or some one night stand did- in a genuinely meaningful way. Sometimes when she'd laugh and his stomach flipped he wondered if what he felt was more than a crush, but he didn't have an answer for that, not yet. 

MacCready was finally being honest with himself about her. He didn't know how to before. Hancock tried to push him into admitting that there was something there beyond a steadfast friendship, but he refused. She'd left because of him and she wasn't coming back- why did any of it matter? 

"But you came back." MacCready murmured so softly that Quinn didn't seem to hear him, still jotting away and laughing to herself about something she'd written down. That selfless, funny, stubborn, and infuriatingly sassy girl came back and he was stuck feeling a lot of things without knowing how to act on them.

Quinn kept writing and MacCready used her distraction to get a good look at her. Her bright red hair fell over her shoulders in waves, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth in concentration. He'd never seen a girl who looked like her, who spoke like her, laughed or smiled like her. That smile was something else. Roxy was wrong about her; she wasn't just cute, she was beautiful.

_Roxy._

MacCready felt a horrible pain in his chest and when he looked down there was blood. Too much blood. 

He looked over to Quinn and she was back to looking at him inquisitively, "Mac, wake up."

MacCready's eyes opened, staring up at an all-too-familiar ceiling. Groggily, he raised his hand to touch his chest where the pain radiated from. His fingers brushed over three new bullet scars for his collection- one of them too close to his heart for comfort. The warm feeling in his chest and low level nausea told him he'd been pumped full of Stimpaks.

"Ugh," He groaned and turned his head, ready to sleep off more of his injuries and he was shocked to find he wasn't alone.

Quinn was laying next to him on her side facing him, her arm bent under her head to use as a pillow. His movement caused her to stir and her eyes opened slowly, taking some time to focus on him, "Finally awake, huh?"

He shrugged, "I could use five more minutes."

A tired smile curled her lips, her eyes unmoving from him, "It's been five days. I think you've slept enough."

"Huh," he was astonished; in all his times getting injured in the wasteland he'd never been out for that long, "That's a record."

"Hancock said the same thing. We were beginning to wonder if you were gonna wake up. I knew you should have kept that bullet proof vest but nooooo, you’re too tough for it and it hinders your movement blah blah." Quinn said this as if she were joking- her eyes telling him there was real worry there.

MacCready stared at her, studying that beautiful face and he knew then and there that he was ready. He willed his stalling body to move and he rolled on to his side, reaching for Quinn. He buried his hand into her hair at the back of her head, pulling her mouth to his. She was stiff in surprise, but only for the briefest of moments before she sunk into the kiss, her hand raising to brush against her chin.

Against his body's wishes, he pulled back just enough to speak, "I've been wanting to do that for so damn long. You know- uhh, sober. Rarely had the guts without some of that liquid courage."

They were still so close that he could feel her smiling against his lips, "You remember?"

MacCready laughed as if she were asking him something ludicrous, "Do I remember? I couldn't forget something like that even if I tried. Things were fuzzy there for a bit, but it didn't take long for me to put it all together again."

He was still sore, certainly not feeling one hundred percent after his brush with death, but he kissed her again and he had no intention of stopping. Quinn wrapped an arm around him and pulled herself into him, the urgency in their motions quickly ramping up.

"Hey, Quinn, I brought you some fooOOoooo oh damn, welcome to the waking world MacCready!" Hancock stood in the doorway with a few bags of chips, grinning like a mad man.

Quinn looked up at Hancock over MacCready's shoulder, appearing only vaguely surprised at what was becoming his standard interuption. MacCready dropped his head back down on to the mattress, groaning loudly, "Hancock! Seriously, man!"

The three of them wound up down at The Third Rail, sitting along the bar and laughing over their beers. Hancock had Charlie use a liquid nitrogen canister his scavenging team found to chill the beers in celebration of MacCready waking up.

"Here's to one tough son of a bitch!" Hancock raised his beer and they toasted to the mercenary, the glass bottles clinking together. The patrons of the bar joined in from their seats, cheering for MacCready.

MacCready laughed and gulped down most of his beer in one go, setting it back down on the bar, "I just got shot a lot. Quinn's the one who took out Roxy."

"As if I'd forget our fair sister," Hancock winked to the redhead, "To Quinn! For saving this idiot's ass!"

The bar cheered again, Quinn turning red from the attention, "I hate hanging out with you guys."

Hancock sipped his beer, hiding a smirk, "That's not true. We're delightful."

MacCready reached by Quinn to tap his beer against the mayor's, "Cheers to _that_."

His expression turning more serious, Hancock's voice lowered, "On the Roxy topic- more Gunners, huh? I can get my men to patrol the front gates."

MacCready sighed, nodding, "That would be great. Thanks, man. I owe you."

MacCready meant what he said; he owed Hancock more than he could fathom. Everyone's favourite ghoul mayor had never been anything but a great friend to him. He let MacCready set up shop in Goodneighbor, gave him a place to stay and now he was risking his own people and his own safety to do his damndest to keep Quinn safe from the Institute, and now the Gunners on top of that. 

"Your fabulous company is enough," Hancock said with a grin, putting an arm around Quinn's shoulder and pinching her cheek with his other hand, "And I have Quinn to irritate to my heart's content."

Quinn put on a comically fake smile, giving MacCready a double thumbs up, "Yep. Love it. It's really amazing."

Hancock dropped his hat on her head, both of them laughing, "We're best friends."

MacCready couldn't contain a grin, counting his lucky stars that he had the two of them in his life. He was terrible at expressing much of anything beyond sarcasm, so maybe neither of them knew it, but he hoped that they did. They spent the rest of their time at The Third Rail talking about anything and everything, teasing one another and laughing like MacCready hadn't almost met his end.

It was past midnight when MacCready and Quinn were heading back to Hotel Rexford, still laughing about something ridiculous Hancock had done. MacCready made his way up the stairs, noticing how great he felt. The long rest and a handful of Stimpaks did him good. At the end of the hall, he opened the door and motioned for Quinn to head in first. She walked in and took off the light jacket she'd been wearing, tossing it on to the armchair. MacCready had his jacket, his scarf and his hat following, his eyes not leaving Quinn for a second.

"I've gotten messed up out in the wasteland- a lot. Never came that close to dying, though," MacCready had been thinking about that fact since he'd woken up, feeling uncharacteristically uncomfortable with it, "I'd be dead if it weren't for you, short stuff."

Quinn smiled, or she tried to, her eyes unable to lie as always, "You wouldn't have needed me to save you if I weren't around. That's twice that you've almost died because of me."

MacCready's brow furrowed, "Twice?"

Quinn sat back against the desk she'd recently dragged up into the room, "You went to Mass Pike to protect me from Winlock. You weren't doing it for yourself, at all, were you?"

He sighed, his gunfight with Roxy still blurry, "It doesn't matter why I went."

She was getting upset, her hands gripping the edge of the desk, "Of course it matters! You disregarded your deal for me. You took on a museum full of raiders for me. You took on _how_ many Gunners and just about got your head crushed for me. You took three bullets and came as close as you possibly could to dying without actually dying... for me. I hate it."

MacCready walked across the room to her, cupping her face with his hands and tilting her head up to look at him, "I don't."

Quinn looked dejected, her shoulders slumped, "I don't want people to keep getting hurt because of me."

"We're all in this because we want to be, Quinn. Preston, Hancock, me- we want to help you," He hoped he sounded convincing, his hands moving to squeeze her shoulders, "I'm not afraid of getting hurt, or really, even dying."

Quinn opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his head, "Dying wouldn't have been the worst thing- but dying before I had a chance to do this? Yeah... maybe the worst."

And then he was kissing her. His arms were around her, his lips trying to convince her of what maybe his words didn't. He scooped her up by her ass and sat her on the desk, her legs quick to open up and have him closer. MacCready was happy to oblige, pressing his body to hers. For once, he wasn't drunk, but he sure felt like he was. His hands wandered with no rhyme or reason; he was anxious to feel every curve she had to offer. 

"Mnn.." Quinn sounded pleased, pulling away and leaning in to kiss and nibble at his neck, her warm breath against his skin making him shiver. Her thighs felt so good on his waist, making MacCready realize just how tight his pants were starting to feel.

MacCready's mind was clouded with lust and any ability he had the night of Hancock's big party to stop himself was long gone. He ran his rough hands up her sides, pushing her tank top up with them and exposing her pale skin to him. Quinn took the top off and tossed it carelessly and he smirked at her, taking his undershirt off with a grasp of the back of the neck and pulling it over his head. 

He kissed down her neck, across her collarbone and between her breasts before stepping back to start working on her boots. Quinn remained sitting on the desk, leaned back on her elbows while she watched him. Her cheeks were pink, her lips wet and swollen and he was beginning to resent her choice in footwear, "We're getting you some goddamn runners, or at least something with a zipper. Jesus."

Quinn laughed at that, the sound incredibly sexy to him and he double-timed his efforts to get the damn things off of her. They hit the floor with a thud and she smirked, sitting up and grabbing him by the belt to lead him back to her faster. She leaned up and kissed him with a force that surprised him. It sure inflated his ego- knowing she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Quinn bit his bottom lip and he groaned, his hands working on opening her belt. He practically tore open the button of her jeans, the zipper coming down with the motion and she lifted her ass from the desk while he tugged the tight material from her legs. MacCready dropped the jeans to the floor and he _had_ to take some time to admire her as she sat there in nothing but her bra and panties. 

Quinn looked at him mischievously and beckoned him closer so she could return the favour and free him of his pants. Looking up at him, she first pressed her palm to the bulge straining against his zipper and rubbed along his length and back down again. She was teasing him. His breath hitched in his throat and he leaned in to nibble at her earlobe, one hand pressed to the desk to keep him up, the other sliding up along her thigh. His hand found its way between her legs, his fingers trailing along the soaked material of her underwear. 

"Fucking hell," MacCready's every nerve was on edge and he couldn't wait anymore. He was about to start on his belt, and they both chuckled because they had the same idea, their hands fighting to get the job done. The belt opened and he impatiently opened the button and the zipper, his pants coming down to his thighs. Good enough. There was no way he was fighting with a second pair of boots.

Their hips were pressed together and he could feel her warmth through his boxers, his mouth capturing hers once again. They kissed rough and clumsy, Quinn pulling down his boxers as far as she could with anxious hands. He pulled her panties aside with his thumb, taking his cock in his other hand and positioning himself. MacCready felt her legs open further and he sunk into her, the both of them gasping. His ego felt even further validated; she was so fucking tight around him. 

"Oh God.." Quinn moaned, the sound kicking the last of his restraint out the door. MacCready took handfuls of her ass, thrusting into her hard enough for the desk to protest. They could take their time- be tender and slow some other day. He needed her _now_. She was leaning back on her elbows again, her legs wrapping around his waist, both of them lost to pleasure they'd been waiting for for so long. He managed to grin down at her through moans and heavy breaths, using her open position to press his hand to her lower stomach, his thumb moving circles around her clit. Quinn's reaction, a hand clasping over her mouth to mute her shout of pleasure, drove him crazy. MacCready continued fucking her without abandon, his whole body beginning to tense.

Working her clit had her panting, looking up at him with parted lips, "Fuuuuck... fuck, RJ.. I'm gonna..! I'm..." MacCready loved the sound of his preferred name coming from her lips, and he took one of her legs from his waist, grabbing under her thigh and pushing her leg up to allow himself to thrust deeper into her. That sent her over the edge and she made sounds that threatened to take him with her. Quinn's head fell back and her whole body shook. She tightened around him and he couldn't take anymore- pulling out of her and cumming against her lifted thigh. MacCready buried his face against her neck, grunting with every erratic twitch of his body, a few swears escaping here and there.

They remained there, breathing heavily for God knows how long, MacCready's body leaned against her, one hand still under her thigh, the other forearm keeping him from crushing her between him and the desk.

Quinn was the first to speak, still breathless, "I've been waiting for that for way too long."

He nodded, kissing her neck before standing up, pulling his boxers and his pants to his hips, "Aaaaand?"

Quinn made a face, doing a "so-so" motion with her hand, "Ehhhhhh.."

MacCready tossed her discarded clothing at her, laughing, "You can't even pretend. I heard the sounds you were making, angel."

She blushed at that, reverting back to the Quinn he knew like the back of his hand now that the pure lust had been satisfied. He winked at her and rolled her eyes in return, putting her tank top back on. Neither of them bothered to get fully dressed again, cleaning themselves up and climbing lazily into bed and not speaking. The silence wasn't uncomfortable and he turned his head to look at her. Quinn was nuzzled in close to him, her face resting against his chest and her eyes closed. He stopped himself from making a comment about tiring her out; she looked much too content to bother. Something told him she didn't sleep much while he was unconscious.

Despite his best effort, left awake in the silence, he thought about Lucy. Quinn was becoming someone so important to him it scared him- was that disrespectful to his wife's memory? Part of him felt like it was, a pang of guilt coursing through him. He couldn't control how he felt about Quinn- he actively tried. Lucy had been gone for years and she was never coming back. He couldn't understand why a corner of his mind made him feel like what he'd just done was somehow wrong. He'd shared a bed with countless women since his wife in an endless attempt to fill the hole inside of him without much care and then Quinn came along making the repair nearly effortless- and he didn't feel as good as he knew he deserved to feel about it.

He had two loose theories as he dozed off. Maybe the idea of truly feeling... _that way_ about someone else didn't sit well with his memory of Lucy. 

Or maybe the idea of feeling that way about someone else and having them die sat worse. 

MacCready didn't know. All he did know is that when he fell asleep- he dreamed about Quinn and her incredible smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL ABOARD THE SMUT TRAIN! I hope you guys enjoyed it! I've never written an explicit sex scene before so that's new.


	22. Baggage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year!

Quinn's eyes clenched shut, never more aware of every nerve in her body than she was in that moment. Her back arched off the mattress, her hands grasping for something- anything to hold on to. The waves running through her body were too intense for her to make a sound, but once she could she immediately felt bad for whoever had the suite next door. 

The sensation was becoming overwhelming and she started to giggle, squirming against the strong hands holding her hips, "Stopstopstop..!"

MacCready raised his head, smirking up at her from between her legs, "You sure about that?"

The look in his eyes made her want more, but they had things to do and she wasn't sure how much more she could take. The last four days had composed of very little aside from them staying holed up in the Hotel Rexford suite getting _very_ well acquainted with one another, "For now."

MacCready laughed and crawled up over her, planting a kiss on her lips. As it always did, the kiss lead to their hands exploring and she was starting to pull his shirt up when she turned her head away, laughing, "We told Hancock we'd check in about jobs today."

"Ugh, you're right," He kissed her once more before rolling off of her, cupping his face and rubbing his jaw, "You're a lot of work, short stuff."

Quinn's cheeks warmed and she giggled while pulling her underwear and jeans back on, both articles hanging from her calf. She'd been sitting on the bed reading a comic book MacCready had recommended from his collection and around halfway through he plucked it from her hands, pushed her back and showed her all the things his mouth could do. 

Dogmeat weaved his way between and around their legs as they meandered over to Hancock's office, barking playfully at the Neighborhood Watch men they walked by. Quinn was trying to get the hound to sit still for a photo, laughing at her failed attempts when she looked over to MacCready to find he was already gazing at her, an almost smile on his face. She looked away, knowing she was blushing. It was a strange thing she noticed in her interactions with the mercenary- something changed in her when they were intimate. Quinn didn't feel shy, or insecure despite being the most vulnerable she could possibly be. But then he'd smile at her during their day and she felt like she had butterflies in her stomach. 

MacCready pushed open the door to Hancock's office, the mayor's expression telling Quinn she was about to hate what he was going to say, "Well, well, well, look who came up for air."

Quinn put a hand to her face, sighing heavily, "Hancock, I'm _really_ starting to wonder if you run Goodneighbor, at all, with your obsession with us."

Hancock laughed heartily, reaching across his desk to give MacCready a greeting fist-bump, "I told you, doll, I take great interest in my people."

Lighting a cigarette, he continued, "Besides, I know MacCready ain't interesting enough for you two to just be talking in there for that long."

Now that was something Quinn could laugh at, much to MacCready's chagrin, "I'm beginning to regret you two becoming friends."

The three of them made themselves comfortable in the seating area, Hancock opening up a bottle of whiskey and pouring them each a glass, "We've got a bit of a pressing matter on our hands."

Quinn tucked her legs underneath herself, motioning for Dogmeat to jump up on to the couch and lay next to her. MacCready sat on the couch's armrest, taking a sip of his drink, "What's up?"

"We've got Gunners setting up shop around the corner from us. Usually I'd let it slide, as long as they behave in my town- but that's too close for comfort considering our... current situation."

Quinn felt her stomach tense, looking over to MacCready. She could see his jaw setting firm from where she sat, "What's the plan?"

MacCready shot back the rest of the whiskey, reaching to place the glass on the coffee table, "Wipe them off the map."

Hancock chuckled, tilting his glass up at MacCready as if to cheers him, "It'd be best to hit them hard and fast now; it'll send a message and maybe make them think twice about trying again. I couldn't tell ya' if they're here for Quinn or not, but why risk it?"

MacCready nodded, "I agree. Do we know how many?"

Hancock started to refill his glass, "Fahrenheit said there were easily ten of them, maybe more."

Quinn scratched under Dogmeat's chin after he whined quietly, "It's okay, boy."

MacCready was silent momentarily, as if he were unsure of what he was about to say, "Hancock, do you think-"

"I'll come with. Fahrenheit, too." The ghoul mayor grinned, waving a hand at MacCready, "You don't even have to ask."

"Should I even bother asking to come?" Quinn eyed the side of MacCready's head, taking a sip of her whiskey.

MacCready looked over at her, raising a brow, "There's no way."

"I'm not gonna get better at handling myself being trapped in Goodneighbor," Quinn snapped back at him, "The Gunners are all over the Commonwealth- you've said so yourself. And the Institute? Apparently they teleport or some shit. I can't just stay here forever."

Hancock looked between the two of him, shrugging, "Hate to say it, but she's right, MacCready. I know this whole situations got you spooked, but you've taken her on runs to clear out raiders and she's done fine _and_ she took out that Roxy chick."

Quinn smiled behind her glass, feeling a bit of pride from Hancock's statement. She knew she wasn't some combat veteran, but she also knew she was better at taking care of herself that MacCready wanted to admit. Being put in a bubble made her feel like she was losing any edge she'd managed to gain.

MacCready didn't look happy, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Yeah... yeah, fine."

After a few hours of planning and waiting for the sun to set, Quinn sat on a concrete barrier near the front gates of the town while the rest of the team finished preparing for the run. Fahrenheit and Hancock were changing their outerwear and donning full faced respirators and hoods to conceal their identities should any Gunner escape; the last thing they needed was an all out war with the faction. She tilted her head and looked over to MacCready who was chatting with Daisy at her store front. His attention turned to a letter she'd handed him, the mercenary quick to shove it in his pocket after he'd finished reading it. 

"Huh." Quinn noted what she'd just witnessed, looking away as MacCready turned to head back over to her.

"Alright, let's move out," MacCready motioned towards the gates, "Reminder: Hancock and Fahrenheit, you guys take ground while Quinn and I do support. I'll go high, Quinn down a few floors to take mid. Questions? Concerns?"

Dogmeat barked at Quinn's feet and she handed him a dried treat, "I think we're good."

Nearing the planned point of attack, the two teams parted ways and Quinn sent Dogmeat to stay close to Hancock and Fahrenheit. MacCready motioned for her to follow him and they made their way into the ruined building, starting their long trek up the stairs.

MacCready maintained his stiff silence through a couple of floors until Quinn touched his arm, "RJ?"

He stopped, looking over his shoulder at her, "Hm?"

Quinn gave his arm a squeeze, searching his expression, "You can't protect me forever."

"Yeah. I know," He put his hand over hers, the familiar warmth of his skin causing a skip in her chest, "I'd hate to see you get hurt again."

MacCready's voice was earnest, looking down at their hands rather than up at her. She had a feeling that if there were better lighting she'd see him blushing.

"I watched you nearly bleed out in the street, dummy. I worry about you, too."

"I know, Quinn. I've.. I've got experience in loss.." MacCready's voice trailed and he shrugged, erasing the emotion from his face, "Come on, short stuff, we've got a job to do. Your stop is coming up."

Quinn didn't have a lot of time to mull over what he'd said, gunfire starting in the streets below them. The sound was deafening compared to the eerie silence the roads had during the night.

"F-..frick," MacCready sighed, "Alright. Quinn- in there. Use the window as a vantage point. I need to get up higher. Shoot first, ask questions later. No risks in Gunner territory. Okay?"

Quinn nodded, getting her handgun ready, "Okay."

MacCready gave her a stern look, resting his rifle on his shoulder, " _Be. Careful._ "

There was hesitation in his movement, but then he was gone before she could offer him some kind of sarcastic reply. Shaking herself out, Quinn took a deep breath and hurried to the window of the destroyed office. She surveyed the Gunner camp below, doing as MacCready taught her and checking the higher ground for any signs of snipers. Nothing. Maybe they weren't set up well enough, yet.

Quinn took a long breath and raised her handgun, focusing on the battle below, "You've got this."

To her relief, she was right. They'd made short work of the band of Gunners, taking advantage of how disorganized and unprepared they were for an attack. It happened so fast- as Quinn was learning it always seemed to. The moment she pulled the trigger she fell into a zone she wouldn't be able to put into words. Aim. Fire. Aim. Fire. Drop and change positions when spotted. Aim. Fire.

"I guess you've earned the right for me to stop coddling you, huh, short stuff?" MacCready was leaning against a railing at the top of the building where he'd set up for the fight, smoking a cigarette. 

Quinn was watching the end of his smoke light up, the ember bright in the darkness, "It's not like I mind you caring about me."

Exhaling, he looked over to her with the smoke still hanging from his lips, "No?"

"You caring about me is the reason I'm still alive out here," She leaned heavily against the railing, looking straight down at the street below, "But I gotta know how to take care of myself, too."

MacCready flicked the cigarette off the building, the both of them watching the little orange light descend. He turned his attention back to her and winked, "Gonna leave me in the dust, huh?"

Quinn laughed, sliding over to stand right next to him and nudging her hip against him, "That's not even in the cards. I can't expect you to always be there to protect me, though. You've gotta watch out for yourself, too."

"It's been a long time since anyone's cared about me the way you do, Quinn." MacCready spoke with conviction, looking out at nothing in particular, "You know, I never got a chance to properly thank you for bringing Hancock and saving my behind that night."

Quinn scoffed, "Shut up. There's no thanks necessary."

"Well, I wanted to say it, anyways. You were ready to stick your neck out for me, and you wandered through the wasteland in the middle of the night and I don't forget shi-..err, I mean things like that."

"Running around in the dark wasn't so bad with Hancock to keep me annoyed enough to almost forget I was terrified," They both chuckled at that before she continued, "Soo... It's about time I ask.. Why do you always stop yourself from swearing? I think it's clear I'm not offended by it."

MacCready didn't say anything for so long she was beginning to feel concerned. He let out a long breath and started, every word he spoke careful, "I didn't think it did. I kinda figured you'd ask me about it sooner or later. It's about time I told you everything. It's not about you, it's about a promise I made."

He put an elbow on the railing, resting the side of his head against his hand, "When I left the Capital Wasteland, I didn't just leave Little Lamplight behind... I left my family behind. I had... a wife named Lucy... and a son we named Duncan."

Quinn stared at him in disbelief, feeling like she'd taken a brick to the side of the head, "A.. _wife_? RJ, what the fuck?"

MacCready spared her a glance, his eyes sadder than she'd ever seen them, "She died a few years back, Quinn. Duncan's the one I made my promise to.. a promise to clean my act up and be a better person. I guess that sounds pretty stupid coming from a guy who kills people for a living."

Quinn joined him in staring out at the night sky, overwhelmed with everything he'd just told her, "I.. I don't know what to say."

"Sure you do," He pulled out another cigarette, lighting it, "You want to tell me how cruel it was to leave him behind. Ream me out for not telling you sooner."

She didn't speak, her mouth dry and her mind going a mile a minute. Quinn didn't bother to try, letting MacCready continue, "My son... he's sick. I don't know what's wrong with him. One day he's playing in the fields behind our farm.. and then he took a fever and these blue boils popped up all over his body. Last I saw he was getting too weak to walk on his own. I didn't dare ask him to come with me. Honestly, I don't know how much longer he's gonna last. Every letter I've gotten has had worse and worse news."

"There's gotta be something that can be done." Quinn's voice was so quite she wondered if he'd even hear it. She felt terrible for MacCready, there was no question about that, but there she was with more secrets coming out of the woodwork right when she'd thought they'd found a place for smooth sailing. Right when she thought she knew him through and through.

MacCready took a few long drags of his cigarette, "I might have a way I can save him. Just before we met, I bumped into a guy named Sinclair who claimed his buddy caught some kind of disease. I thought he was wasting my time until he said his partner broke out in blue boils. They dug up information about a care at a place called Med-Tek Research. They even managed to get the building's lockdown security codes. Unfortunately, Sinclair's buddy died before they were able to break into the facility. I mean, there's no way that's a coincidence, right? Med-Tek has to be the place- and I have the codes now."

He reached into his pocket and removed the letter she'd seen him reading at Daisy's Discounts, gazing at it for awhile before putting it back, "I've gotta go to Med-Tek."

Quinn nodded because despite everything she was feeling, she understood. What father wouldn't do what he was doing? Unfortunately, she was still left in a place where she wasn't sure what to say. When she got overwhelmed or uncomfortable she had a bad tendency to exit the situation as soon as she could and this was no exception. Quinn pushed away from the railing and turned to start the long walk down.

MacCready's hand promptly grasped hers, stopping her in her tracks, "Quinn."

Turning to face him, she gently pulled her hand away, "I thought we'd be done with you hiding things from me. And I don't mean that because we've been sleeping together- I mean that because... I thought you trusted me."

He put his hands on her shoulders after discarding his cigarette, looking into her eyes closely as if to make her see the honesty in his own, "I do trust you. I do. I swear it. I... have a bad habit of doing this. Of keeping details from the people I care about because... well... I'm afraid of how they'll react to the truth."

The way he looked at her made it impossible to be angry with him- his eyes were pleading with her in a rare moment of vulnerability. She, unexpectedly, had a lot to think about and even more to try to come to terms with, but she decided she'd make an effort to take it one step at a time just as she'd been doing since waking up in the strange new world. The girl out of time had come too far to run away now. So she wrapped her arms around MacCready, hugging him tightly. Quinn closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of his body against hers, "You've been there for me through pretty much everything, RJ. Believe that I'll do the same for you."

How tense MacCready had been seemed to melt away and he held her in return, their bodies leaning on one another, "Okay. I can do that."

Quinn's arms stayed around him, but she pulled back enough to look up at him, "And you best believe I'm coming with you to Med-Tek."

She could see that MacCready wanted to argue with her, his mouth opening to protest. Instead, he put his hand on the back of her head and pulled her in as close as he could, kissing the top of her head, "I know."


	23. Deal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who wants some FLUFFFFFFFF?
> 
> I did an edit, but forgive me if there's some errors! Started a new job and I'm soooo tired, but still super committed to continuing the adventures of Mac and Quinn.

The day was cooler than usual, the sky blue and full of rare fluffy clouds. It had dawned on Quinn a day prior that she loved the rain- another small reminder of who she once was- and she'd hope she'd see some soon. Not to say she wasn't enjoying the beautiful day as it was. She spent most of the afternoon sitting in a wooden chair out on the balcony of Hancock's office, her feet resting up on the marble railing as she thought aimlessly about her life in the Commonwealth. It had been seven months, give or take, since she'd woken up in that freezing tube and more happened than she thought possible since then. 

"What a ride..." She dropped her hand down to trail her fingers through Dogmeat's fur, his company having become one of the most soothing parts of living out in the wasteland. He poked his cold nose against her hand before falling back into his doze.

Focusing her attention back to the blue sky above, she stretched out and crossed her feet at the ankles. Quinn couldn't have imagined her life as it was now when she first woke up. Even now, with her bearings, she was sometimes surprised she'd made it this long. The world she remembered being from was nothing like it had become. It wasn't a daily effort to survive and simply make it to the next day. Life wasn't easy, but it was easier- by far. 

In seven months, Quinn had become someone she hardly recognized in the mirror. Her fair skin had tanned heavily from the wasteland sun, her freckles more prominent than ever. She'd dropped enough weight to notice, although she could tell she was gaining muscle from the hard work of wasteland life. It was her assumption that her life before was relatively easy because she didn't have a single scar before and now she had more than she could count. Most were small, but some were prominent- like her bullet wound, and the scar near her hairline. The biggest difference she'd noticed was how tired she looked all the time. Maintaining a balanced diet and getting proper rest was a thing of the past. Quinn picked at some dry cereal, trying to recall the last time she had a solid sleep. Romping around with MacCready helped tire her out, that was for sure, but it was rare for her not to wake numerous times every night. The best hope she had for a dead sleep was going down hammered. 

Dogmeat whined up at her, as if he could read her mind and she smiled down at him, "It's okay, boy. I'm not unhappy. How could I be? I've got you."

Quinn kept the smile, looking up at a cloud that lazily moved across the sky. She wasn't lying- she wasn't unhappy. The only life she _truly_ knew was this one; the one before was a faint ghost lingering in the back of her mind. Day-to-day life was something she grew accustomed to and she spent most of her time with people she truly cared for. Could she ask for much else?

"Maybe not being a target of the Institute would be a good start," Quinn answered her own question, sighing heavily. There were so many, too many, unknowns and it hung over her head every moment of every day. The fast and furious lifestyle of the Commonwealth made it easy for her to push it on to the back burner, but it was always there. She didn't know why the Institute wanted her, or why they hadn't sent another Courser after her. If they were nearly unbeatable like everyone said, she found it hard to believe that they'd be scared of Goodneighbor, no matter how tough of a town it was. And if the contract was still open, like Roxy said, then they clearly hadn't lost interest yet. Quinn was at a loss on that topic. 

Popping a handful of cereal into her mouth, she chewed and continued her thought process, "Could probably ask for a guy who doesn't hide everything from you," Quinn rolled her eyes at her own negativity, although she couldn't bring herself to disagree fully. MacCready was... something else. He made her feel good- in every sense of the word. They spent almost all their time together and she never got sick of him. Even sitting there on the balcony she was hoping he'd come by soon. Quinn liked talking to him, she liked laughing with him, she liked long nights drinking with him and she liked adventuring with him.

"There's other things I like, too," She chuckled, biting her bottom lip at the thought. Now that they'd opened that door, she had no idea how they made it as long as they did without breaking. There was this mutual hunger for one another and it was enough to start a fire. Come to think of it, they nearly did once. MacCready was distracted with Quinn straddling him as he sat in the armchair, dropping his cigarette onto a stack of comic books. He had just finished removing her shirt and actually had to take a moment to decide if he wanted to deal with the fire hazard or not. She laughed out loud at that memory, finding it just as funny as she found it hot. If only they could just stay locked up in that Hotel Rexford suite forever. 

Unfortunately, there was more for her to think about- things like a dead wife and a sick son. Quinn had told herself she would take it all one day at a time and she intended on keeping that promise, it was just a difficult load of information to carry. Having more he failed to tell her made her doubt him and her ability to see something real with him. Not that it wasn't real now; he was always more than a friend and he was always more than just an excellent lay. The question was: how many times could she accept new secrets coming out of the blue? And how could she fully trust someone whose proven he doesn't know how to tell her everything?

Quinn shrugged, shaking the empty box of cereal and setting it down next to Dogmeat. The only questions she had, about the Institute and about MacCready, had no answers. It was frustrating. Somehow, though, she was still doing alright. Answers were bound to come- one way or another. 

"Christ," Quinn lowered her feet and stood up, stretching out her sore lower back; she'd been sitting there for hours. Looking around, she smiled again- it really was a beautiful day. She dug around in her bag and pulled out the digital Polaroid camera she was sure to take with her everywhere and surveyed the area for a nice shot. She chose the skyline above the Memory Den, making sure to show the clouds above the jagged shapes of the broken buildings. The photo came out with a whir, Quinn shaking it to develop it.

"Can I see the camera?" MacCready's voice came from behind her and she jumped, turning to face him with a laugh, "Sorry."

He had his hand outstretched towards her and she handed him the camera, checking the photo she took and tucking it into her bag, "Taking up photography, RJ?"

He shrugged, raising the camera up to his eye, "Just this once."

Quinn realized he was about to take a photo of her, quickly reaching out and pushing the device down, "No way! I'm a mess."

MacCready slapped her hand away and grinned at her, "You're literally the only person in the Commonwealth who would think that. Now stop being stubborn."

She glared at him and then sighed, leaning back to sit against the railing. Resting her hand on the marble, she looked at him with a smile.

Raising the camera again, MacCready smiled at the sight of her, "Oh come on, short stuff. Smile like you mean it. Think about that time Hancock tripped up The Third Rail Stairs or something."

Quinn cracked up instantly. She didn't know why she always found it so funny, but Hancock- the cool and collected mayor- falling made her laugh until she nearly cried that night. Thinking back on it made her giggle every single time. The camera went off and she frowned at MacCready, "I wasn't ready!"

"Sure you were," He stepped over Dogmeat and stood next to her, shaking the photo with his arm straight up in the air so she couldn't reach it.

Giving up, she grumbled and leaned against him gently, "How was it out there?"

"Same old, really. You could have come if you didn't sleep in," MacCready teased her and she nudged her hip into his.

"I slept in because I was up all night," She couldn't hide a smirk, sticking her tongue out at him.

MacCready wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in, leaning in so his lips were agonizingly close to hers, "I didn't hear a single complaint."

He kissed her, barely, before turning his head to look at the developed photo. Quinn was mid laugh with her hand covering her mouth, her red hair flowing from the breeze. 

Quinn reached to snatch the Polaroid and he was quick to tuck it into the inner breast pocket of his duster, his mouth still so close, "I think I'll keep that."

That made her blush and she gave him a gentle shove away from her, "You think you're so slick."

He shrugged as she grabbed her bag, Dogmeat groggily getting up to follow her, "Well, yeah."

Back at the suite in Hotel Rexford, Quinn sunk down into the armchair and sighed, "How do people not die of boredom being confined to so little space around here?"

MacCready lowered himself to sit on the coffee table in front of her, shrugging, "Like I said before, there's not much to do around the wasteland aside from working, drinking, and getting killed in a heck of a lot of different ways. And... other things," He finished his sentence with a wink and she laughed, shaking her head at him.

"I always knew you were a pervert," She raised her feet and rested them them on his lap, wiggling her toes the best she could in her boots.

MacCready rolled his eyes, trying to contain a grin as he started to untie her laces for her, "And you're spoiled."

Quinn shrugged and leaned back with a smile, speaking nonchalantly, "I guess we are what we are."

He shook his head at her, unable to even feign being irritated, "Yup."

A silence fell between them as MacCready removed her boots, his gaze looking as if he were lost in thought. Quinn tilted her head and looked at him quizzically, his sudden sullenness alarming her, "RJ?"

He removed his hat and placed it on the coffee table, his trademark sign of seriousness, brushing a hand back through his hair and shaking it out, "I just..."

Quinn sat up, starting to feel anxious, "Something wrong?"

MacCready looked up at her and she wasn't sure what to make of the emotion she saw in his eyes. He reached up and brushed some of her hair from her face, studying her face, "No. Nothing's wrong. Which, uh, I guess is the problem."

Her brows furrowed and she blinked a few times, "What?"

MacCready let out a nervous laugh, a sound she'd never heard from him before and he followed it with a sigh, "Quinn, I'm not... exactly used to being happy."

Quinn's expression softened and she shifted to put her feet on the floor, a hand moving to rest on his knee. She wasn't sure what she could say, instead using her other hand to to grasp the lapel of his jacket and pulling him in enough so she could kiss him on the cheek. 

He turned his head and his lips grazed the corner of her mouth, "Growing up in Little Lamplight- I can't remember a time I could say I was happy. I was an angry little sh-... uh, jerk."

Knowing humour disarmed him, Quinn pulled back and trailed her fingers along his stubbled chin, "Oh, this RJ _isn't_ the angry little jerk?"

"You're hilarious," He cracked a small grin, resting his forearms on his thighs and leaning in to look her right in the eyes with his bright blues, "It's true, though. I'm not saying I'm incapable of happiness or anything like that. But.. there are times I feel like I'm not supposed to be. Like I'm not allowed to be."

"Why would you think that?"

The mercenary chuckled, his shoulders raising in a brief shrug, "I do kill people for a living. For money. Maybe it's karma? When I'm happy, I don't... get to stay happy. And here I am, happier than I've been in a _very_ long time because of you- scared out of my wits that it's not gonna last."

MacCready spoke so casually, not seeming to understand the weight his words had. Quinn felt flustered under his intense gaze, her eyes dropping. He froze momentarily, blowing out a breath and continuing, "One day I'll tell you about everything, okay?"

She looked back up at him and nodded, still at a loss for words. He managed a genuine smile at her, speaking softly, "You came around and made this hellhole different. I meant what I told you on Christmas- I'm gonna do everything I can to make sure things stay this way. And I'm sorry if I stumble here and there... I just want you to know that I want you here- no, I need you here. There are things I don't talk about from my life, but I will for you. I just need time. Deal?"

Quinn nodded again, the motion so small she wasn't sure if she actually moved, at all. MacCready had, somehow, completely blindsided her. Her heart was racing and her eyes were stinging with the threat of tears because he was saying all the right things.

MacCready started to look nervous, running his hands back through his hair again, "I uhh.. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have thrown that at you. You don't have to say anything."

He was about to stand up, but she grabbed his jacket and pulled him back down to a sit. Quinn knew she was terrible with words and she wasn't able to come up with a reply that would do justice. There was plenty she could say to him, but decided on something that couldn't possibly be misconstrued. She cupped his face and pulled him in hard enough that he nearly fell forward on to her. He caught himself using the armrests, looking down at her. She smiled and leaned up, kissing him passionately; she needed him to feel how much she meant it. 

Quinn pulled away before she found herself getting too carried away, although he did protest with a groan, "Deal."


	24. Med-Tek

Quinn grimaced, trying her best to ignore the throbbing pain radiating from the back of her head. She'd taken a heavy blow from a feral ghoul that came out of nowhere, it's flailing fists striking her as it attacked. 

"Quinn!" MacCready's voice came from the distance, the shout followed by a string of gunfire.

She was dealing with her own handful of ferals, their rotting hands reaching for her as she lined up her shots, "I'm okay!"

Taking a deep breath, she continued to step back as quickly as she could and still maintain her balance, pulling the trigger four times. The sprinting creatures dropped to the ground heavily- lifeless. She grinned at her accomplishment, more gunshots pulling her back to reality _promptly_. Promising to pat herself on the back later, Quinn took off around the corner to find her partner. 

"Quinn, are yo-" MacCready tore around the corner just as she did and they collided. The air was knocked out of her and she fell back, the mercenary's arms catching her before she hit the ground. She let out a laugh, grabbing handfuls of MacCready's duster to balance herself, sorting her feet out under her. 

"Are you okay?" He move his hands to her shoulders, stepping back and analyzing her.

She nodded, trying to catch her breath, "I'm okay. Don't worry, RJ."

MacCready didn't look entirely convinced, his forehead creased with worry. She tilted her head to the right, "You've got other things to worry about. Shouldn't the cure be right in there?"

He looked to the room they stood next to, his hands squeezing her shoulders. They were in a huge atrium-like section of Med-Tek and in the center of the area was a smaller room with it's blinds drawn. According to everything they knew, the cure would be in there. Almost home free.

MacCready looked apprehensive, like he was afraid to move, "What if it's not there?"

Quinn placed a hand on the side of his face, looking up at him. She looked him in the eye, trying to smile as reassuringly as she could, "We won't know until we go check, right?"

He took a breath and nodded, leaning in to touch his forehead to hers, "Yeah. Right."

After a moment of quiet contemplation, MacCready stepped up to the terminal next to the door and typed in the password he'd been provided. The terminal beeped a few times and he glanced over at her. She had her fingers crossed, holding them up so he could see them. 

Quinn was standing in front of the door as it hissed open, getting a full view of the room. It was a lab room of some sort in complete disarray, equipment strewn everywhere, broken glass lining the floor, "Oh, shit."

The worst and most important detail of the room was that there were two ferals and what she assumed was also a feral ghoul, glowing a nuclear green staggering about- now very much aware of the duo's presence. They all shrieked and started in on them.

"RJ?" Quinn spoke his name nervously, questioning him with what to do with her gun raised. The two standard feral ghouls didn't concern her, but she didn't know what else she was looking at.

"Glowing One! Quinn, run! Stay as far away as you can from it!" MacCready grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the doorway. Once they had a head start, he let go of her and removed his rifle from his back, turning and raising the scope to his eye. Quinn also turned and started to fire. She managed to take down one of the ferals with a few bullets, but they were forced to turn and run with the distance closing between them and the Glowing One. MacCready’s shots had all rang true, but the creature seemed impervious to the .308 rounds puncturing through it's body. 

They exchanged a glance as they ran, both of them skidding to a stop as a pack of ferals came from the doorway they'd used to enter the atrium space. Without missing a beat they started running again, making their way around the circular track that wrapped around the lab and taking out as many of their enemies as they could. Lucky for them, one of the fallen was the Glowing One, the creature letting out a growl as the final sniper round hit it in the throat.

"We've gotta get outta here!" MacCready had his rifle held to his chest, his eye on the atrium entry door they were coming up to again. Quinn nodded, although she already had other plans. She glanced behind them to see that the pack had yet to round the corner, looking back to MacCready as he bolted for the door. Taking a huge breath, she let him make his way through the doorway before she took a hard left and started her way back around the track once again. She trusted her partner could handle himself with the remaining ferals, but what she didn't trust was how many more surprises their could be spread out in the research facility. If the cure was there, it was right in that room and she was going to find it. If they weren't able to get back for whatever reason, she knew MacCready would be heartbroken and she couldn't have that. 

"Okay, okay, let's do this, " Quinn was talking to herself as she pulled open drawers and cabinets, distracting her from the thought of MacCready out there dealing with the ghouls alone. She knew he was more than capable without her, but she couldn't stop herself from worrying. The continuing sound of gunfire told her he was alive and well.

Her eyes fell on to the long island counter in the middle of the room after tearing through half of the room, a red cylinder catching her eye. Looking closer, she saw that it that it was an injectable of some sort, the word "PREVENT" stamped on the side in white. 

"Holy shit," Quinn reached for the item, knowing it had to be it. She was disrupted by the all-too-familiar sound of a feral ghoul and her attention snapped up to see the Glowing One, also alive and well, standing in the doorway, " _Holy shit._ "

It screamed at her again and she reached for the counter in a panic for the cure while the creature dove over the island counter at her. Feeling the full of weight of the ghoul slam into her, Quinn was sent to the floor. Unable to gather a straight thought through her sudden terror, she clambered to her feet and ran. The file folders, broken glass and general scattered junk at her feet made it hard for her to make it to a full run- her boots catching and slipping on anything and everything. She was hit hard from behind, slammed against a counter along the wall of the room. Her attempt to brace herself didn't help much, sliding down to the floor with a groan. The Glowing One was on her and she tried fighting it off with her fists and her forearms, the creature unfathomably strong for how skeletal it was. 

"Get off!" Quinn screamed at it, managing to raise a foot and slam the bottom of her boot against it's stomach. It staggered back enough for her to get to her feet and she unholstered her 10mm, making an attempt to run for it around the island. She felt dizzy and nauseous, understanding now why MacCready told her to stay as far away from it as she could. After taking another couple bullets, the creature showed signs of slowing but it just _wouldn't_ stop. It was limping towards her and she was feeling too woozy to run. Her feet felt strange under her. A small stack of white canisters near the Glowing One caught her eye and her clouded mind realized they were propane tanks. 

Swallowing hard, she squinted her eyes and tried to focus on her target. She fired once and the bullet went low and hit the floor. Her second shot wasn't much better, narrowly missing to the left. Planting her feet, she took a long breath and tried again. Third time was the charm and she hit one of the tanks- the effect immediate. There was an explosion and beyond that, Quinn wasn't too sure. She felt her feet leave the ground and she was blown back from the force- and then nothing.

Everything was dark, but a voice was pulling her out of it, "Quinn?! Quinn?! Wake up! No, no, no, wake the fuck up!"

Quinn opened her eyes with a pained moan, her vision taking awhile to come together properly. MacCready was all she could see and he was looking down at her, looking terrified and pale as a ghost, "Hey, RJ.."

He didn't say anything, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him tightly. She had been laying on the floor, him on his knees next to her and there was a ton of broken glass around them. With him holding her as hard as he was, it was difficult for her to look around, but she put together that she'd been thrown clear through one of the windows of the lab from the explosion.

Everything hurt from head to toe and she was nauseous, but it felt good to be in his arms, "I don't feel so hot.."

MacCready loosened his embrace enough to pull back and examine her. He placed a hand to her forehead and pushed her hair back, speaking to her softly, "You've got rad poisoning, angel. Not at a lethal level- you're looking okay. But you're gonna feel sick until we can get you some RadAway."

"Okay," Quinn nodded. She felt terrible and she was in pain, but she didn't feel as awful as she expected having gone through a window, "I'm okay."

He looked at her with a conflicted expression, as if he didn't know if he were relieved or pissed at her. When he spoke, his voice still came out soft, "What the hell were you thinking, Quinn?"

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying her hardest to push the nausea to the back of her mind, "I didn't want to lose your chance to get the cure."

MacCready sighed and held her to him again, kissing her on the forehead, "And I don't want to lose _you_ , short stuff. I saw you laying here and I honest to God thought you were dead. You weren't moving, Quinn. You weren't fu-.. fricken moving."

He kept her supported with one arm, using his free hand to open up his rucksack. He took out a Stimpack and injected it into her thigh through her jeans as swiftly as he could. Quinn let out a sigh, the pain pulsing through her body disappearing in a wave. Unfortunately, the urge to throw up stayed, "Don't move just yet, okay? Relax and let the Stim do a thorough job before you get up."

Quinn nodded again, opening her eyes and looking up at him, "...Thanks, RJ."

MacCready offered her a smile, but there was sadness behind it. He looked up at the smashed window, his eyes following the smoke tendrils that poured out, "The entire lab is destroyed. If it was in there..."

His voice trailed and he shook his head, clearly trying his hardest not to allow himself to get emotional. With his jaw tensed, he lowered his head and sighed, "I just... I..."

Quinn saw a tear roll down his cheek, her head spinning too much for her to manage any words. MacCready waited a moment before looking at her again, "..I'm glad you're okay, Quinn."

She swallowed and took a few breaths through her nose, trying again to quell the nausea as best she could. Reaching into her jacket, she felt around the inner pocket and revealed the cure to MacCready, the red syringe on her palm. She'd managed to grab it just in time when the Glowing One came for her, stuffing it into her pocket as she was picking herself up from the floor. 

MacCready stared at it in disbelief, taking awhile to form the words he needed, "You.. You did it... holy crap, you actually did it."

He took the cure and put it in his bag, although his eyes didn't leave Quinn. Pulling her up with the arm he had supporting her back, he kissed her firmly, "Quinn... You just gave Duncan a fighting chance to live."

Quinn smiled, changing her open palm to a loose thumbs up, "In your wise words... I aim to please."

MacCready laughed at that, kissing her again, "I don't know how I'll ever be able to pay you back for this... I owe you big time."

"I dunno... you're already running _quite_ a tab," Quinn spoke with humour, but her words were slow; how nauseous she was was beginning to make her feel faint, "But.. how about you get me some RadAway and we'll call it even?"

The last thing she heard before the world fell away was MacCready chuckling.

Quinn felt like her eyes had just closed, however, when they opened she was no longer looking up at MacCready and the room she was in was certainly not any part of the Med-Tek facility. When she sat up, she recognized the room immediately- it was her bedroom in Sanctuary Hills. Dogmeat's head perked up from his spot at her feet and he rushed up to her, licking her face fervently.

She had her head tilted high, trying to avoid his drool while she laughed, "Okay, boy. Okay. Okay. Thank you, bud."

Quinn looked around the room, pleased to find her vision entirely clear. Even better, she didn't feel nauseous, at all. She felt good as new, maybe even a little better. Now she had something else to tackle- why was she in Sanctuary?

Climbing out of bed, she stretched herself out and made her way out of her house. It was daylight out and the sounds of Sturges hammering away at something told her it was probably mid afternoon. She had only been gone somewhere around a month and a half and so much had changed. There were more people roaming about the settlement and the homes along the cul-de-sac were patched up and looking wonderful. It wasn't the Sanctuary she'd woken up to and she felt so proud of all its residents. 

"Good afternoon, Quinn."

Quinn was too busy feeling enamored by the state of the settlement that she'd missed someone coming out of the central house. She looked over and felt her heart jump; it was Preston.

"Preston!" She ran at him without a second thought, throwing her arms around him in an excited hug. Preston had once mentioned that he wasn't much of a hugger, but she felt some occasions warranted them. Seeing her friend after what felt like an eternity was one of them.

He smiled and returned her hug, "Well, hey. Good to see you're awake."

"I thought I was dreaming. I feel like I haven't been here in forever," Quinn pulled back from the hug and motioned around, "They've been working hard."

"It looks great, doesn't it? I can't take any credit, though. I've only been back for two days. I wanted to stop in and check on everyone with my own two eyes and make sure they're getting along alright before I head back out."

Quinn smiled at Preston, impressed with how selfless he was for the millionth time. She'd seen such ugliness from the people of the Commonwealth and she was endlessly grateful for the handful of people she knew who had good hearts. It was a reminder that she was alive and becoming someone who could take care of herself because of those people. Speaking of...

"Where's RJ?" When she'd looked around she was hoping she'd see him amongst the other settlers, but she hadn't spotted him, yet.

Preston looked puzzled, "RJ? Ohhh, MacCready? He brought you here and had to head back to Goodneighbor to get that cure to a merchant he trusted. I have this for you."

Quinn took the folded paper he handed to her and she opened it up to reveal MacCready's writing,

_**Quinn,** _

_**I hope you're feeling better. I brought you to Sanctuary via a caravan willing to take us along on her route going west. Goodneighbor was a heck of a lot closer, but I wouldn't have been able to carry you there and I wanted to get you resting with RadAway before the rads made you feel any worse.** _

_**The caravan's heading back down and I'll use it to get as close as I can to Goodneighbor. I have to get the cure to Daisy so she can send it off to Duncan as soon as possible. She's the only one I trust to get it done.** _

_**Preston's gonna stay until I'm back- and I will be soon. I promise.** _

_**Be good. Seriously.** _

_**-RJ** _

"I expect he'll be back in a couple of days- a week tops. The caravans are pretty much on the move constantly aside from sleep and stops at the settlements," Preston gave her a reassuring nod, "It'll go by fast; I have a feeling we'll be put to work while we're here."

The Minuteman was right and neither of them stopped moving until the sun had nearly set. They spent the remainder of the day picking vegetables from the garden, helping Sturges move parts of his planned electric pump down to the waterfront and starting on the final two homes that needed the walls fixed. 

Slouched on her couch, Quinn started in on a bowl of vegetable stew Preston brought her before he sat down next to her, "I truly think it's unfair that I had to do all that right after waking up from unconsciousness."

Preston laughed, taking a hearty bite of stew, "You say that like you wouldn't have gotten bored and come out to help, anyways."

She dug into the stew happily, nodding, "Okay, you're right."

They ate silently, enjoying the hot meal after a hard day. Dogmeat paced back and forth between them the whole time, whining for scraps and he was pleased when they set their bowls on the floor to let him lick the remaining residue and vegetable bits. 

"When do I get to hear about your adventure?" Quinn leaned back again, kicking her feet up on to the coffee table Sturges had moved into the living room while she was gone.

Preston mimicked her, folding his hands on his stomach, "It's been exhausting but I gotta admit that it feels good to be doing... something. I can make a difference."

"Oh, come on, Preston. You've gotta give yourself more credit. I know you're disappointed with a lot of what's happened, but look around! Sanctuary would still be an abandoned hellhole if you hadn't gotten everyone here." She raised her hand to stop him, already knowing he was about to argue, "Nothing that happened on the way here was your fault. You did the best that you could. You changed Mama's life. Sturges. The Longs- even if they're too miserable to ever admit it. And with this settlement here and growing, you're actions that got the ball rolling will _keep_ changing lives for the better."

"Huh," He was looking at his hands, but there was a tiny smile there on his lips, "Yeah. Thanks, Quinn."

Quinn patted him on the thigh, "Respect yourself, Garvey. The rest of us do."

Preston's smile grew and for a second his eyes looked a little wet. He chuckled and cleared his throat, getting up to a stand, "Seriously, Quinn. Thank you. It's good to have you around. Get some rest, yeah? We can chat more about everything tomorrow."

"See ya later, Preston," She waved at him and he gave her a friendly salute before closing the door behind him. 

Dogmeat was quick to take Preston's spot on the couch, placing his head on Quinn's lap and letting out a yawn. She slouched back further and closed her eyes, stroking the hound's fur until they were both asleep. It would have been much more comfortable retiring to her bedroom, but she knew it would feel empty. Quinn had a feeling she wouldn't be sleeping in the bed for her time in Sanctuary- not without MacCready.


	25. Welcome Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much a dedication to smutty goodness. If you don't like explicit stuff- watch your eyes!

Quinn sipped at a cup of coffee while she looked out her front window, doing her best to ignore just how terrible it was. She'd woken up earlier than she'd intended and couldn't fall back asleep no matter how hard she tried; MacCready should have been back by now and she was getting nervous. 

Cringing, she swallowed the last bit of coffee and set the mug down on the window sill, "Okay, I guess I _do_ miss some pre-war stuff."

The sun was only in its early stages of rising and Quinn whistled to Dogmeat to follow her outside, the both of them enjoying a surprisingly cool rush of air. She started her way down the road without a destination in mind- allowing herself to take in the quiet. It was rarely quiet in the Commonwealth. Gunshots, yelling, the growl of strange creatures, the chattering of wasteland bugs. It felt like everything was asleep.

She made it to the old bridge, marveling at how well Sturges had fixed it up, looking out across at the world on the other side. It was strange and scary and daunting and... beautiful in its own way.

Quinn climbed up on to the bridge railing and sat there, closing her eyes to listen to the water below run by. She could hear Dogmeat circling under her feet before plopping down into a lay, the high pitched whine of him yawning making her giggle. Another breeze rolled by and she inhaled a deep breath of the morning air, recognizing a certain scent. Looking up and opening her eyes, she felt a droplet of water hit her forehead.

"Rain," She smiled up at the sky, the rain coming down harder and harder by the second. There'd been a handful of rainy days since she'd woken, but none since she'd remembered that she loved the it once upon a time. Sitting there under the cloudy sky with it all coming down, Quinn knew it was true. There was something about it that made her feel light and, unlike the memories she'd seen at the Memory Den, it felt familiar. 

It was beginning to pour and Quinn hopped off the railing, turning to make her way back home. Dogmeat had his ears lowered, not looking like he enjoyed the rain as she did, "Aw, boy. I'm sorry. We're going home, okay?"

"That's probably a good idea- don't need you catching a cold, short stuff."

Quinn's heart about jumped out of her chest and she turned around to see MacCready standing not far behind her on the bridge, wearing that grin she'd come to love. Dogmeat barked, but she didn't say anything. She didn't need to. Instead she ran over to him and all but leapt into his arms, squealing happily. He stumbled back a step, laughing and returning her embrace with pleasure. Her face nuzzled against the side of his neck and she breathed in his familiar scent of tobacco, "Took you long enough."

MacCready turned his head and kissed her temple, his hand tilting her head towards him and kissing her deeply on the mouth. She could have melted right into him, unable to help but smile into the kiss. Their lips parted and he pecked her once more, "Shut up, you. Let's get inside."

They walked back to her house, taking their time to let her enjoy the rain- they were soaked to the bone already, anyways. Dogmeat's disposition brightened with MacCready back, although he still didn't look pleased with being wet. About to enter the house, Quinn looked down to see that they had been holding hands and she smiled to herself.

"It hasn't come down like this in a heck of a long time," MacCready took his hat off, his hair even wet beneath it. Shrugging his duster off his shoulders, he gave it a gentle shake and hung it up on the coat hanger by the door. Dogmeat shook himself off and went to lay on his bed and pout, his paws impatiently rubbing at his wet face.

Quinn took her hands and pushed her hair back away from her face, water dripping from her head to toe, "I think I get why you're so adamant I wear my jacket now."

"Not so adamant right now," He spoke with a smirk and Quinn followed his lowered gaze to remember she was wearing a white t-shirt, her lack of a bra _very_ apparent. 

She knew she was blushing, but decided to try and own the moment. Turning away, she peeled the shirt off and tossed it back at him. Quinn looked over her shoulder at him and he was still smirking, holding the wet shirt and following after her.

Before he even touched her, she could feel a shiver running down her spine in anticipation; she missed MacCready in more ways than one. The moment she stepped into her bedroom he was on her, his hands on her waist spinning her around to face him. He discarded her shirt with his own onto the floor, pulling her into him. His skin was so warm.

MacCready seemed to be restraining himself, just holding her and running his hands down her back, "I missed you, short stuff. Sorry I had to jet before you woke up."

Quinn pushed up on to her toes, her lips brushing against the growing stubble on his chin, "It's okay. You had to get the cure to Daisy. I understand."

"Mnn," He pivoted so she had her back to the side of her bed, guiding her to sit on the edge, "I'll never be able to thank you enough for that."

Quinn shook her head and smiled at him, laughing at his sound of approval at the pair of runners she was wearing instead of her boots as he pulled them off, "I don't need you to thank me, RJ. You know that."

"Maybe," He grinned and knelt down in front of her, his hands working at removing her wet jeans, "But I want to."

The look he gave her had her heart racing, her hips wiggling to assist him in his endeavor. Her jeans wound up in the growing pile of their clothing and she looked down at him with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. MacCready remained on his knees, placing a hand on her lower back and sliding her closer to him so he could kiss her neck. Quinn planted her hands against the mattress and tilted her head back, shuddering from his stubble raking against her skin and the water beading down her torso from her hair. MacCready's hands cupped her breasts, his mouth working its way down to tease her right nipple with his tongue.

"RJ.." Quinn squirmed against him, her thighs closing against his hips. 

Hearing her say his name obviously enticed him further, a growl coming from deep in his throat. He moved over to her left nipple, his lips wrapping around the hardened flesh and sucking on it. A flick of his tongue was added to the suction and she whispered, "Don't make me wait."

MacCready chuckled and slid his hands down along her waist and down to her hips, his pointer fingers hooking into her underwear. Quinn lifted her ass enough to allow him to pull the soft material down without resistance, the mercenary tossing the garment over his shoulder with that sexy, daring smirk. His hand pressed to her lower back again while his other grabbed a handful of her ass to tilt her lower body upwards just enough to make it easier for him to have access to her. He kissed down along her stomach, Quinn writhing because she knew what was coming next. Every movement he made was killing her, her mind clouded by her lust for him. He'd been gone for too long. MacCready buried his face between her legs, his tongue pressed against her and sliding up along her slit. Her breath caught in her throat, moving a hand to brush through his wet hair, "Oh God.."

He tongue dipped into her folds and he explored every inch of her until he had her thighs shaking. MacCready moved her legs over his shoulders before continuing his work, find her clit and sucking on it slowly, thoroughly. Quinn's breathing was picking up and the pleasure had her unable to stay sitting up. She fell back against the mattress and moaned, his tongue now pressed flat to her clit and licking in long, agonizingly slow strides. 

"Uh huh.. uh huh.. oh, RJ.." Quinn was purring, her heels digging into his back. She was close to cumming, her hips rising and falling to grind against his expert mouth. MacCready flicked his tongue against her sensitive flesh and she was undone, gasping his name and writhing. Her eyes were shut tight and the pleasure she felt was overwhelming, her mind unable to think of anything but one thing, "RJ, I want you. Now. Please."

"Oh, angel. I'm happy to oblige," MacCready was kicking his boots off and working on his pants. Quinn shifted to lay properly on the bed, watching him strip out of the remainder of his clothing. She eyed his well defined torso, thinking about how badly she wanted to run her tongue along the lines of his hips as he climbed on top of her. He settled his weight down on her, nestled between her legs and he kissed her hard on the lips. It was a passionate kiss, and it was hungry, but there was something more to it. Whatever it was, Quinn liked it and she returned the kiss with an anxious tongue, her hips rising to press his hardened cock between them. MacCready groaned, sliding his rough hand down along her breast and her waist, grasping himself and pressing against her.

"Please," Quinn let out a shaking breath, her hands holding onto his sides, "Please, RJ."

MacCready kissed her again, both of them moaning against the other's mouth as he plunged into her. He moved with slow purpose until his hips were pressed firmly to hers and Quinn pulled back from his mouth to gasp. 

"Goddamn.." He slipped his arms around her and embraced her firmly against him, pulling his hips back until he'd nearly left her and pushing forward again. He set a deliciously intense pace that had her moaning with each thrust, her legs tied around his waist. 

Quinn's back arched off the bed and she giggled involuntarily from the pleasure coursing through her, "RJ.. I missed you."

MacCready grinned at that, shifting so his hands dug into the mattress on either side of her head, looking down at her and picking up his pace. She looked back up with half-lidded eyes, her lips left parted- moans and whimpers trailing out. A shudder rolled through him and he stopped delving into her, his breathing heavy, "Not yet."

Her tongue ran along her bottom lip and she put one hand on his shoulder and the other on his side, shifting their weight so she straddled him. The mercenary looked a little shocked, at first, and then impressed. Quinn leaned in nibbled at his ear, her hips grinding against his. She felt him deeper than she ever had before and they both took a moment to relish in it. MacCready's strong hands held on to her hips, letting her move in whatever pace she chose, looking up at her with a smile.

Quinn ground her hips against his, rocking his length inside her. She leaned in and encircled his neck with her arms, her lips grazing his, "What are you smiling at?"

MacCready's left hand kneaded her hip, his right tickling up her spine and tangling into her wet hair. He was still smiling, those blue eyes looking at her in a way she hadn't seen before. Like his kiss before, there was something different, "I'm smilin' at you, angel."

The way he touched her, the way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her- it was all doing wonderful things to her. She'd never wanted him so badly, or felt like she needed him even closer despite their bodies writhing together and joined. Quinn rode MacCready harder, possessed by that need. They were both gasping and moaning with her movements, his hand in her hair bringing her mouth to his. He kissed her with vigor, his tongue exploring her mouth between his moans. Quinn couldn't handle any of it anymore, the overload to her senses mixed with how intensely she was feeling for the mercenary below her pushing her to her limit again. Her body tensed and she murmured his name into his mouth, feeling her orgasm through to her finger tips and toes. 

"Quinn.." MacCready grabbed her ass, pushing and pulling her against him with his own hips bucking up. Quinn cried out and pressed her face against the crook of his neck, his continued thrusting prolonging the waves of her climax. His motions were urgent and she could feel his nails digging into the meat of her ass, "Fu-uck, I'm gonna cum..!"

A few more upwards thrust that rocked her whole body and MacCready lifted her from his dick, his head tilting back and pressing hard against the mattress as he came, his warm release speckling Quinn's rear. She collapsed onto his heaving chest and attempted to catch her breath as he was, a satisfied smile curving her lips. The humidity of the downpour had them slick with sweat, MacCready's finger tips tracing shapes against her spine.

They stayed like that in their usual comfortable silence for awhile until MacCready spoke, that rare vulnerable softness there, "You're something else, short stuff.."

Quinn giggled, finally moving to lay next to him. She had more than a week without the endless marathon of sex she and MacCready had going, the two times she came draining what little energy her uncomfortable sleep had recharged.

She moved to lay her head against his chest, his arm wrapping around her. Her eyes closed and she murmured sleepily, "If you keep treating me this good, you'll never be able to get rid of me."

His chest moved as he chuckled, his fingers pulling at the strands of her wet hair with care to keep them from tangling. He spoke quietly and with affection, "I.. think that's the plan, angel."


	26. Factions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time to get the ball rolling on the story's main conflict! My timeline is quite slow- as it's currently around 7 months since Quinn woke. But I figured I wanted a more realistic version of growing and learning the Commonwealth, as opposed to how we could clear a museum full of raiders the day we get out of the vault, and then be running a faction by week 2 in-game. I want to depict realistic relationship growth, skill leveling etc.

"I think these factions are worth looking into; both of them are hard line against the Institute and would bolster our numbers nicely."

Preston sat across from Quinn at the kitchen table in the central home of Sanctuary, the one he shared with Sturges and Mama Murphy, rubbing his large palm against his short, course hair, "My only concern is their willingness to work together, even if they want the same end goal."

MacCready stood by the kitchen window, blowing smoke out into the warm morning air, "I've only heard stories about the Railroad, but I _do_ know the Brotherhood aren't the type to play nice. Couldn't hurt to have those guys back us up, though."

Placing his hat back onto his head, Preston looked at MacCready curiously, "You've dealt with the Brotherhood before?"

The mercenary nodded and moved to sit up on the window sill, his cigarette hanging from his lips, "Yup. I'm from the Capital Wasteland. They've got a big presence there- did since I was a kid. They believe in some fu-..messed up stuff. Anti anything not human."

Quinn made a face, "I'm sorry- we want to recruit bigots? Is that what I'm picking up here?"

Preston leaned back in his chair, frowning, "I know. It doesn't sound great... I'm no fan of the Brotherhood or their ethics, but they'd be a powerful ally to have. Working together for the largest greater good isn't the worst thing."

She wasn't certain she believed what he said, seeing the strain in the Minuteman's expression, "And the Railroad? What's their deal?"

MacCready piped up again, snuffing his cigarette out on the sill, "I've heard they're all about helping out synths. Assisting in getting them by in the Commonwealth, or something? If that's true- I get it. You've seen how people are about synths."

Quinn nodded, both her and Preston looking sullen at that fact. She knew she had no problems with synths, or at least didn't in theory. As far as she knew she didn't know any synths, but she didn't understand why people wouldn't like them. From what she'd _heard_ , the whole "synths being nothing but spies for the Insitute" was an urban legend of sorts. Quinn knew there must have been more to all of it, things she didn't understand, but she was firm in her stance- synths weren't something she was going to hate just on principle alone.

"So, what do we do? Show up on their doorsteps with a proposition to fight the Institute?" Quinn sipped at a Nuka Cola, looking back and forth between the two men.

"The Railroad exists- that much I know. Finding them could prove difficult, though. They're illusive. As it stands, the Brotherhood is the only solid lead we have," The Minuteman scratched at the stubble on his face, "So, there's two things to do. Speak with the Brotherhood, and look into where we can find the Railroad."

Quinn raised her hand, "I volunteer for the Railroad hunt!"

MacCready and Preston exchanged looks and she pointed a finger at one and then the other, "Stop. Don't even say it. I can't stay cooped up forever with little passes to go out and play, not anymore. That's not fair."

They were trying to speak and she talked right over them, "Listen. I think we all know that if the Institute wants to come for me, that's what they're gonna do. I don't think it'll matter where I am or who I have guarding me. And I want to help. Preston, you can't do this alone. If RJ and I can help, that's way more productivity!"

"Quin-"

"Now, just hold o-"

"Neither of you can tell me what to do, so. Case closed. I'll take Railroad duty," Quinn stood and picked up her Nuka Cola, turning on her heels and walking out of the house before either of them could continue to protest, leaving the two men awestruck. 

Grinning to herself, Quinn whistled to Dogmeat who had been snoozing in the shade of the house. He bounded over to her and she bent down to kiss him on his snout, "Come on, boy. Let's go for a walk."

She set off down the street, waving over to Mama Murphy and making her way over to the old woman. Quinn smiled at her brightly, sitting on the armrest of the chair Mama had moved out into the sunlight, "Hey, Mama."

Mama Murphy smiled at her and placed a wrinkled hand against Quinn's forearm, "Hey, kid. You're looking cheerful today. Happy your beau's back?"

Quinn hadn't had anyone refer to MacCready as _hers_ before, nor did the two of them ever have a stereotypical "what are we?" conversation and Mama Murphy's words took her by surprise. She blushed, but nodded, "Yeah, I am. I really am."

"That boy's smitten, my girl," Mama Murphy smiled that knowing smile of hers, her warm hand squeezing Quinn's forearm, "His aura- it's changed greatly since that day in Concord."

Quinn found Mama Murphy to be the strangest person she'd met in the Commonwealth, but she had a soft spot for her. She could never decide if she believed that the old woman could see the past, the present and the future as she claimed. Either way, Quinn found her predictions and musings interesting to listen to, "What do you mean?"

"He was walled off then. Angry. Sad. But he's changed now. Maybe not outwardly, but I can see it and I can sense it," Mama Murphy nodded as she spoke, "It's because of you."

Quinn smiled, putting her hand over Mama Murphy's and giving it a squeeze, "I don't know about that."

Mama Murphy tilted her body and nudged it against Quinn's, that smile still there. Quinn moved her arm over the woman's shoulders and gave her a side hug before pushing off the chair, "I'm just going for a walk around the settlement. I'll see you later, Mama."

Quinn was sitting on her bed and taking stock of the supplies in her backpack later that morning when MacCready cleared his throat, leaning on the doorway, "We gonna talk about earlier?"

"Nope," She shook her head, counting the Stimpaks she had and putting them into their allotted spot in her bag, "I have to help, RJ. I can't be the damsel in distress sitting in my stupid tower while everyone else risks their lives."

He sighed and walked across the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to her, "I told you, Quinn. Anyone in this is because they want to be."

" _I'm in this, RJ._ " Quinn was trying not to sound as frustrated as she felt, focusing hard on the items she was checking on, "You said I've earned the right to have you stop coddling me and I'm holding you to it."

MacCready's voice was growing an edge to it, as well, "You have the worst of the Commonwealth and, oh, the second worst of the Commonwealth with their eyes on you, Quinn. You can take care of yourself, I know you can. Stop thinking that I don't."

"Then why are you so adamant that I stay holed up as much as possible?! You know they're coming for me one way or another- why corner me somewhere?!" Quinn zipped her bag up with way more force than necessary, climbing off the bed on the opposite side MacCready sat on.

MacCready stood up, turning to look at her with his brows furrowed in frustration, "We've already had this argument, Quinn! Before I left for Mass Pike, we had this exact same conversation!"

"Then you've had plenty of time to change your stupid tune!" She fired back at him, glaring from the other side of the bed.

"Are you kidding me?!" He sighed, removing his hat and throwing it down on the bed, "Do you actually think I'd _change my tune_ after falling fo-"

They both froze and he groaned, his hands going back through his hair as if he was about to start pulling it, "I care about you more than I care about anything in the Commonwealth, okay?! Am I so bad for not wanting to see you have to face off with Gunners or the Institute and risk you getting taken- or _fucking_ killed?"

Quinn was stunned into silence, blinking at him. Was he about to say what she thought he was going to say? No, no way. She felt her mouth go dry, her heart thumping in her ears. Him swearing was the cherry on top and she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

MacCready took a deep breath and she couldn't tell if he was flushed from anger or embarrassment, the volume of his voice coming down, "You're so stubborn. You drive me crazy."

She wasn't sure why, but she smiled, "I know, RJ."

Seeing her smile made him do the same and he chuckled, shaking his head at her, "Come here."

Quinn stepped up on to the bed, walking across the soft surface and over to MacCready who was grinning up at her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and she hopped down, her legs wrapping around his waist. He grasped under her thighs and looked up at her, shaking his head once again, "We'll go to Diamond City to start on the Railroad, alright? That detective there can probably give us a hand."

She grinned and nodded enthusiastically, "Okay. Thank you."

MacCready was always disarmed by her when she smiled and he seemed to have to shake himself out of it, his face going more serious, "I still don't like it, though, Quinn."

Quinn rested the side of her head against his own, her arms wrapping a little tighter around his neck in a hug, "I know, RJ.. But I'm not exactly safe anywhere. We both know that."

She could feel his shoulders slumping and his voice grew softer, "I know. And I know I can't really stop you from doing what you want- so I'll stick by you. That's the deal. Just promise me you're gonna at least attempt practicing some self preservation. No more explosions."

Quinn laughed at that, "Hmm.. can't promise."

MacCready turned so he could sit back down on the bed and Quinn gave him a squeeze with her legs. He kissed her on the side of her neck and chuckled quietly, "Stubborn girl."

"That's me," She shrugged, making no moves to get off of him. Her forehead rested on his shoulder and he moved his hands from her thighs to wrap his arms around her. She had to admit that sometimes it scared her how much she'd grown to care about him. First, it was a crush she could easily ignore under their comradery. When she was certain he'd almost kissed her before he left for Mass Pike, something _really_ shifted. She thought she buried whatever it was she felt when she'd run off to Sanctuary. After she'd returned.. it was all a slippery slope from there. 

And now? What was is that she felt for him? 

"What're you thinking about, short stuff?" MacCready's voice took her out of her thoughts and she pulled back to look him in his gorgeous eyes.

Her eyes searched his and then she grinned, "Just wondering what else I can blow up."

MacCready narrowed his eyes at her, pinching her hard on her ass.

It had gotten relatively late and Quinn couldn't sleep; she was too anxious at the idea of finally being out and about and beginning her stand against the Institute. Sure, she'd fought tooth and nail for it, but underneath that fire was genuine fear. She was stubborn, not stupid- the idea of having to deal with the Institute, or the Gunners, again made her feel nauseous. As gently as she could, Quinn got up out of bed and pulled her runners on. MacCready was out like a light, sleeping face down on the mattress and he didn't seem to stir when she'd moved. 

Stepping out of her house, Dogmeat was quick to follow after her and she looked up at the night sky. There wasn't a cloud to be seen, the moon and stars bright against the inky backdrop. It was late enough that most everyone had gone to their homes and turned in for the night- except for the lone Minuteman. Quinn could see the shadow of his hat flickering about from the fire pit he sat at in the settlement's common area. 

"Shouldn't you be resting for the big day tomorrow?" Preston turned his head to look at her as she spoke, but she couldn't see his face away from the light of the fire.

"Probably. Trust me, I tried," He scooched over on the bench he sat on, patting the open space next to him, "Same boat?"

Quinn nodded and sat down next to him, the warmth of the fire still comforting despite the endless summer of the wasteland, "Same boat."

"Are you okay?" Preston was looking at her with those kind brown eyes and she offered him a tired smile.

"Eh.. I mean. Well, yeah," Quinn laughed, the sound coming off uneasier than she intended, "I'm scared, I guess."

Preston opened up a beer for her, handing it over, "Tell me about it?"

She took a small sip before she started, "I haven't really stopped thinking about the Institute since we found out they're the ones who paid to have me taken from the vault. You know- I don't know much about them. I've always been too afraid to ask. Most everyone I know is terrified of them and I am, too."

Preston sat quietly, listening to her intently as she spoke, "I've hated feeling tied down and monitored like some kind of kid, but.. I'm still scared. The Commonwealth is fucked up and hard to survive on a normal day, thinking about life actively standing against the boogeyman and their new minions is.. a lot. But, I have to. It wouldn't be right not to. I feel like a catalyst to all this and I can't sit on the sidelines anymore."

"I'm impressed by you, Quinn." The Minuteman nodded to his own statement, continuing to drink from his beer, "In my experience, there's not a lot of people willing to do something for anyone or anything but themselves. Even being part of the Minutemen, where our goal was to help- it ended in betrayal and selfishness."

"I'm sorry, Preston," She sighed, the sound of her friend's voice forlorn as he continued to stare into the fire, "I'm really sorry for everything that happened."

He chuckled, smiling against the lip of the beer, "See? You're having a crisis and worrying about me. You're a good person, Quinn, and I'm glad you're on my side."

Quinn raised her beer up and Preston tapped his against it, "Cheers."

After another long swig, he placed his empty beer on the cement, "I hope you know that MacCready and I have just wanted to keep you out of harms way. I'm sorry you felt suffocated."

"I know. I appreciate it," She was watching the fire dance, the threat of the Institute gnawing on the back of her mind, "Of course I do. I count myself lucky having you two to watch my back, but.. this is something I have to do. That sounds cliche, doesn't it?"

"I don't think it does. I know MacCready and myself would feel a hell of a lot better if you laid low. Having said that, you were right when you said we can't tell you what to do and if joining the cause is what you need to do- okay. I know I've got your back."

Quinn finished off her beer, nodding, "RJ said the same thing- more or less. After giving me shit for being stubborn."

"The man's not wrong," Preston shrugged, laughing when she punched him on his arm, "Alright, I'm gonna make another attempt at getting some rest. You should do the same."

"Yeah, yeah, you're right," Quinn stood along with him, "Thanks for the chat, Preston."

He tipped his hat at her with his cordial smile, "My pleasure. I'll see you in the morning."

Waving at the Minuteman, Quinn turned and returned to the house, Dogmeat begrudgingly leaving the warmth of the fire and heading back to his bed in the living room. Turning into the bedroom doorway, she let out a squeal when she unexpectedly collided with something.

"There you are," MacCready stood there, rubbing a hand through his disheveled hair and still looking half asleep, "You okay?"

Quinn nodded and giggled at the state he was in, "I'm fine- just couldn't sleep. Sat by the fire for a bit with Preston."

He draped an arm around her and led her back to the bed, "Ohhh, that sounds romantic."

She pushed him on to the bed and he laughed sleepily, climbing on after him. He put his arm under her neck, his forearm resting against her chest. 

Quinn closed her eyes, getting comfortable against him, "Night, RJ."

"Mhm.. that's if I can sleep through your snoring," He snickered, his chin resting on top of her head. 

"I don't snore!"


	27. The Synth Detective

"Valentine Detective Agency," Quinn read the red neon sign out loud, looking into the small brick hallway that lead to the agency's door. She stood there longer than she intended, that familiar anxious feeling building up in her stomach. Her and MacCready had arrived in Diamond City earlier that day and Quinn decided that she wanted to go see the city's detective as soon as they were finished lunch at Power Noodles. MacCready, as usual, found himself immersed in conversation with Arturo at the weapons shop so she went on without him with him promising to catch up soon.

She clicked her tongue and tapped her fingers on the door handle. Quinn knew that opening the door was comparable to opening a can of worms. Her face-off with the Institute started here. There was no other option- not according to her, "Alrighty."

Pulling the door open, she slipped inside of the agency and was greeted by the smliling face of a petite brunette, "Good afternoon. Welcome to the Valentine Detective Agency. Can we help you?"

Quinn returned the smile, the pleasant woman making her feel at ease, "Yes, please. I'd like to talk to the detective about finding a group of people. I heard he might be able to help?"

The woman stood and nodded, "Yes, of course! Please have a seat here and I'll go get Nick for you."

Quinn lowered herself into a chair that sat in front of the main desk, setting her bag down next to Dogmeat who sat at attention in their new surrounding. The office was neater than most places she'd seen around the Commonwealth, not that it could hide that post-war grime. It didn't seem like anything could. 

"Afternoon, miss. I'm Nick Valentine. Ellie tells me you're in need of a detective."

Quinn had been preoccupied with adjusting a boot lace when the voice had her look up, the colour draining from her face. A man- of sorts- was standing behind the desk, looking at her with piercing yellow eyes. His skin was a pallid grey, and she could see what looked like mechanical parts whirring behind the missing portions of the side of his face and neck. Her eyes fell to his hand, which held a lit cigarette, what should have been bones all metal and screws. He wore a detective's outfit- a beige trench and fedora, the mundane outfit a stark contrast to everything else Quinn was seeing.

His expression was stoic and it was clear she wasn't surprising her shock well, "It's rude to stare, kid."

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Quinn shot up from her seat, thrusting out her left hand to shake his, "I didn't mean to stare, wow. I'm really sorry."

Nick shook her hand and let out a good-natured laugh, "You must be new around here."

Motioned to sit again, Quinn settled back in and scratched the side of her head, "Well. Yeah. Sort of. I'm Quinn- it's nice to meet you."

Nick sat across from her, snuffing the cigarette out in an ashtray and folding his hands in front of himself. He was looking at her evenly and Quinn assumed he was analyzing her, "Who is it you're looking for? Missing persons?"

She shook her head, "No. I'm looking for a group called The Railroad."

Where his brows would have been shot up, his head tilting , "The Railroad, huh? Interesting. Can I ask why you're looking for them?"

Quinn took a breath, picking at a hole in the knee of her jeans, "They might be able to help me with something."

Nick nodded, still studying her, "Judging your reaction to me, I figure you're not a synth. Do you know one who needs help?"

Quinn opened her mouth to speak, but MacCready beat her to it, closing the agency door behind him, "The only synth kicking around is you, Valentine."

"Ah, if it isn't the infamous MacCready," Nick did _not_ sound impressed and Quinn looked over at MacCready and back to the detective.

"No, it doesn't have anything to do with synths," Quinn shook her head, shooting MacCready a sharp look.

Nick's demeanor had shifted and he leaned back in the office chair, "I'm not in the business of helping mercenaries. I'm not interested in tracking down targets for them."

"Wait, that's not wh-" Quinn started, but MacCready interjected again.

"It's not for me, Valentine. It's for her. She ain't a merc," He had his arms crossed, leaning against the wall next to the door. He was in business mode, his face set in that serious mask Quinn rarely saw anymore.

"Hmm," Nick looked to Quinn again, those yellow eyes peering at her, "Why do you want to find the Railroad, kid?"

Quinn sighed, digging at the fraying material of her jeans again, "My friends and I want to take down the Institute. We're looking for allies."

"That's quite an enemy," Nick looked between her and MacCready, "Synth advocate?"

"No," she shook her head once again, but then quickly added, "I mean! I don't have any problems with synths. This isn't what it's about, though. The Institute... well, they've been after me. I don't know why. They hired MacCready to retrieve a package from Vault 111 and it turns out that package was me."

Nick had been listening intently, now looking at MacCready with a stern look. Quinn continued before the two could exchange words again, "He didn't go through with it. He didn't know he was hired to get a _person_. He didn't even know it was the Institute who hired him. So.. there's been a lot of laying low for months. Because MacCready didn't go through with it, they hired a Gunner and now that dead, a bunch of other Gunners are looking to complete the contract so... yeah."

Quinn took a breath, explaining everything making her feel worked up. Saying it all out loud reminded her what a fucked up situation she was in. Seven months ago she was just a girl asleep in a frozen tube without a care in the whole ruined world. There was little logic in everything that followed her waking, a whole new world crushed down on to her. Quinn was hardly aware of who she was and, yet, she had two of the worst groups in the Commonwealth after her. It was so much. Too much when she thought deep on it.

She felt a hand on her shoulder amd she looked up to see MacCready standing next to her, as if he could tell she was feeling distressed. He was looking at Nick straight-faced, "You help people, don't you, Valentine?"

Nick ignored MacCready, focusing solely on Quinn, "The Institute after a non-synth, with no prior Institute knowledge?"

"I had no idea who they were until I came to Diamond City for the first time a few months back. And even then, I only heard the urban legend sort of stuff, you know?"

"Boy, do I know," Nick chuckled, scratching his chin in thought, "If you can give me a day or two, I can track down as much information as I can. Can you stay in town awhile?"

Quinn nodded, "Yeah, of course. If it means you can help- totally."

Nick jotted down some notes before standing, reaching across the desk again. Quinn gladly shook his hand, feeling her eyes prickling with tears, "Thank you so much, Nick."

The synth detective winked at her, only giving MacCready a stiff nod. The mercenary did the same, moving to open the door for her. Quinn turned back, "Wait. What are your fees?"

Nick looked up from his notes and smiled. Even though he was clearly a synth, the sheer warmth in his smile made her do the same in return, "I have a personal interest in this one, kid. Don't worry about it. I'll see you in a few."

She was about to head out when he spoke again after her, "You sure mercs are the sort you want to take up with?"

Quinn looked back at him, and although Nick quite clearly didn't like MacCready and vice-versa, she couldn't help but laugh softly, "I'm sure."

MacCready watched her as she walked through the doorway, looking at Nick one last time before he shut the door with a smirk, "Yeah, and who could blame her?"

With little else to do but wait, they walked over to the Dugout Inn and had a couple of beers. They talked about anything and everything, both of them laughing like there wasn't a single thing wrong. Like they weren't about to head into some kind of war. The hours slipped by and eventually Quinn, feeling the buzz of alcohol, smiled across the table at MacCready, brushing her foot against his calf. The mercenary was quick to settle the tab. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to their room, Quinn giggling the whole way.

"We've got some time to kill," MacCready kicked the door closed behind them, scooping her up and tossing her on to the bed. He removed his duster and climbed on after her. 

She was about to reply, but his lips were on hers and she forgot quite quickly whatever it was she had to say. Their hands were busy exploring one another, clumsily removing articles of clothing and laughing; the beers had done their job. 

MacCready brushed his tongue over his lower lip, looking down at her with an impish grin, "How fast do you think I can make you cum?"

His hand trailed down her bare stomach, a finger tracing around her belly button before he pressed the palm of his hand in between her legs. Her thighs quivered, "I have a feeling I'm about to find out."

MacCready chuckled and nodded, keeping himself propped over her so he could watch her as his fingers went to work. Quinn's body was flooded with pleasure and she squirmed under him, her hips rising and falling with each pump of his fingers. He had two digits inside her and his thumb toying with her clit, which made short work of her. He didn't stop there and she felt stunned, her nails digging into his shoulders like her life depended on it. His hand slowed and he smirked, pecking her on the lips as she attempted to recover. Quinn's cheeks were flushed, her forehead glistening with sweat.

"Hmm," MacCready took a look at his watch, "Hardly over a minute. Damn, I'm good."

Quinn looked up at him hungrily and she pushed him up, leaving him on his knees while she wiggled out from under him. She tucked her legs under herself and dragged her nails lightly down his sides, watching him twitch under her fingers. Leaning in, she kissed above the waist of his boxers, her tongue poking out to run along the muscled line of his hip.

"If you want to play that game, we're gonna play that game," She curled a finger into the wasitband of the last thing between them and tugged the material down, revealing his erection to her. Parting her lips, she angled herself further and teased her tongue up along his length, enticing a groan from him. Quinn flicked her tongue against the head of his arousal before she took him into her mouth, her breath hot against his sensitive flesh.

"Christ.." MacCready's head tilted back, a hand moving to brush back through her hair. She responded to his pleasure by slowly taking more and more of him in. Her lips reached his base and he looked down at her with lustful eyes, "Holy. Shit."

Quinn bobbed her head along his cock and his hand tightened around a handful of hair at the back of her head, his moans coming out as shaking breaths. He closed his eyes and started to guide her motions with his hand, Quinn feeling tremors running through his legs- much to her joy.

"Fuck," MacCready pulled her up and she let out a shocked gasp, a hard kiss muting the sound. He pushed her back down onto the bed, grabbing her by her waist and tugging her towards him, "I gotta watch you cum again."

Quinn would have giggled if she had the chance, but MacCready pushed both her thighs up and filled her in a single thrust, forcing a sharp squeak from her. The mercenary remained on his knees, widening his legs as much as his pulled down boxers would allow and tormented her with slow, forceful strokes. He was savouring each motion, watching her react as he buried himself into her over and over again.

And that's how Quinn and MacCready spent their night- enjoying one another in every way they could, lost in their own little world. They could worry about everything else later. 

With two days passing by, the pair and their trusty hound returned to to the Valentine Detective Agency hoping for something, anything to point them in the direction of The Railroad. Quinn greeted Nick with a smile and a handshake, both of them making a point to ignore MacCready and his glaring attitude. 

"I've got a lead for ya'," Nick waited for Quinn to sit and he opened a file folder filled with handwritten notes, "The Railroad is a tough group to nail down. They're good at what they do, I'll give em' that."

The detective slid a map across the desk to her, a route marked in red drawn on to it, "From what I've gathered- The Freedom Trail is where you need to start. I'm afraid it's in Boston Common, though. Allegedly there's the beginning of a trail there that'll lead you to The Railroad."

"Are you kidding?" MacCready snapped and Quinn looked at him in surprise, his sudden outburst reminding her he was there, "I can't take her to the _Common_."

"Cut the gas, MacCready," Nick raised his hand at him to stop him, returning to paying little attention to the disgruntled mercenary, "Boston Common is rather... infamous for being unsafe. I've plotted out the best course to get there on this map, but unfortunately there's nothing I can do once you get there."

"Okay," Quinn nodded slowly, looking down at the map thoughtfully, "If this is our best lead then it's our best lead."

MacCready let out an irritated groan, "For fu-.. frick sake. You're insane."

Nick was looking at Quinn with an interested gaze, nodding as he took a long drag of a cigarette, "You've got heart, kid."

She shrugged and went a little pink at his praise, "There's no other option. I'm already dealing with the Institute coming for me and the Gunners keeping an eye out for me so.. why not add a trip to Boston Common on the "holy shit danger" list?"

Nick laughed heartily, blowing out a cloud of smoke and grinding the cigarette into the ashtray, "You're an interesting gal, Quinn."

Quinn stood and shook Nick's hand again, thanking him again for his help, "Can't I repay you?"

"Just take down the Institute, would ya?" Nick winked at her and she waved at him just before the door closed behind them.

Walking back towards the Dugout Inn, Quinn slapped MacCready on the arm rather hard, "What is _wrong_ with you? You don't have to be so rude to him!"

"What? It's not like he likes me, either. Besides, he started it. Only seems fair to return the favour." MacCready rubbed his arm, avoiding Quinn's glare by scratching at Dogmeat's head.

She shook her head at him, "Mature."

"Damn, ya'll have been busy since I last saw you, huh?" Hawthorne looked amazed at the duo, the both of them having updated him on their desire to take on the Institute and the threat of the Gunners. MacCready had enlisted the help of his old friend in escorting Quinn to Boston Common, the plucky mercenary not even needing a moment to think about agreeing to the request. 

They'd departed from Diamond City as soon as they could, MacCready hell bent on getting to Boston Common and getting out as quick as possibly. 

"Okay, so can someone tell me why Boston Common is so bad?" Quinn looked between the two of them, having never heard anything about the area before that day.

MacCready finished lighting a cigarette, snapping his flip lighter closed, "It's smack dab in the middle of the worst of the worst."

"According to the map it's not far from Goodneighbor, though?" 

Hawthorne piped up this time, tossing Dogmeat's ball ahead of them as they walked, "You'd be surprised how quickly that area goes from bad to worse. It's raider, Super Mutant and Gunners galore."

"It's a huge open space, too. Great for getting shot at," MacCready spoke deadpan; he was still cranky about Quinn's decision to go despite his warnings. Her heart warmed when his loyalty didn't shake, nor did he press too hard for her to change her mind. If it was important to her, it was important to him. If she was going, he was going.

Chuckling, Hawthorne slapped MacCready on the back, "Oh, come on now, MacCready. Why are you pouting? Afraid of the monster of Boston Common?"

MacCready veiled a grin at his friend's antics, looking over to Quinn, "No. I've just got someone to worry about."

"It's me, isn't it?" Hawthorne hung off of MacCready and they both laughed, "I knew you cared."

Quinn was laughing with them, happy to see MacCready taking a break from trying to prove how surly and tough he was. Him laughing and smiling was always her favourite version of him.

Suddenly, what Hawthorne said hit her, "Wait. Back up. Did you say monster of Boston Common?"

"Man, did you have to scare her?" MacCready left his cigarette hanging between his lips, giving Hawthorne a swat to the back of his head, "It's just an urban legend. People say they've seen some giant thing living there. Probably chem heads seeing Super Mutants or something."

Quinn couldn't help but feel more uneasy than she wanted at the thought, thinking about all the things she might see while they continued on their long walk. 

By the time they made it to Boston Common, Quinn's nerves were shot. She'd convinced herself that something god awful was going to happen, finding herself pleasantly surprised (and suspicious) at how quiet the area was when they arrived. Both MacCready and Hawthorne had their weapons raised, moving slowly and looking at their surroundings carefully.

"It's quiet... too quiet," MacCready whispered to her, then breaking into a snort, "Oh man, I've always wanted to say that."

His laugh was cut short, though, the two mercenaries jumping to attention and aiming towards the direction of a sudden sound. Tension quickly broke when they all realized it was a protectron exiting its standby pod, plodding out to greet them.

"Ohhh!" Quinn squealed, running over to the robot with Dogmeat bounding after her, "He's so cute! Oh my God, look at him!"

Hawthorne looked over to MacCready who was looking at Quinn with a small, restrained smile on his face, "I don't think she remembers these from her past. Or she's a robot enthusiast."

After Quinn _insisted_ on listening to everything the tour robot had to say about the history of the Freedom Trail and having Hawthorne snap a picture of her with it, MacCready grumbled as he eyed the concrete below their feet, "Oh for f-..frick sake."

"It's a literal trail. Are we gonna have to follow it all through this hell?" MacCready moved an arm in a sweeping motion, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth setting into his trademark scowl, "Who knows what we're gonna end up walking into."

Quinn and Hawthorne exchanged glances, the mercenary being the one to tentatively speak first, "Well... we're already out here.."

MacCready looked at Quinn, who stayed quiet, but the look on her face alone made him relent, "Goddamnit, fine. I'll take point. Hawthorne, rear. Keep quiet and keep your eyes peeled."

She intended on keeping her word, walking behind him quietly and looking at the developed photo in her hand. Quinn had her arms wrapped around the protectron, nuzzling the side of its domed head, her hand thrown up in a peace sign. The photo was plucked from her hand and she exclaimed at MacCready who tucked it into his duster pocket. He winked at her and raised a finger to his lips to shush her and she rolled her eyes. Once his back was turned again she smiled to herself.

Quinn took a deep inhale and let it out slowly, her hand moving to rest against the gun on her thigh. If MacCready was nervous, she was nervous tenfold. They all walked in silence, although she almost tugged at MacCready's duster when she could have sworn she saw movement in the pond. 

"Wha..?" She blinked a few times, deciding that she was tricking herself with Hawthorne's story about the monster of Boston Common. A monster? Yeah, right.


	28. The Railroad

"So the fair maiden arrives! I knew you'd show up sooner or later."

Quinn sat on a plush armchair, blinking up at the man she mentally chalked up as "Sturges Two" with a hairstyle just like her favourite handyman, "If you expected me, what was with the whole dramatic firing squad thing when we got here?"

"Stop right there," The pitch black room lit up as Quinn and company stepped into it just thirty minutes previously, revealing three people standing before them- two with their weapons at the ready. A red haired woman stood between them, her voice commanding, "You went through a lot of effort to arrange this meeting. But before we go any further, answer my questions. Who the _hell_ are you?"

Quinn looked to her right at MacCready, raising a hand and placing it gently against his, making him lower the gun he had raised in retaliation. He glanced at her and nodded, keeping the gun down- but not holstering it. Hawthorne was hesitant, slowly doing the same.

"We followed the Freedom Trail looking for The Railroad. I'm not your enemy." She had her hands raised to show they were empty.

The stern woman blew out the smoke she inhaled deeply, "If that's true, you have nothing to fear. Who told you to contact us?"

Quinn put her hands back down, her fingertips brushing the top of Dogmeat's head. She didn't know these people and wasn't about to risk putting Preston's name out there until she knew they were legit, "I heard a rumour about you in Diamond City."

"Hmm," The woman stared at her for an uncomfortably long time, then nodded, "I see. I'm Desdemona, and I'm the leader of the Railroad. And you are..?"

Ready to reply, Quinn saved the words as the woman started to berate the man who came up to stand next to her, "Deacon. Where have you been?"

The man adjusted the sunglasses he wore, speaking casually, "You're having a party. What gives with my invitation?" 

Quinn snorted under her breath, deciding there that she liked this guy- at least a lot more than Desdemona.

"I need intel. Who is this?"

"Wow," Deacon turned his attention over to Quinn and she could have sworn he winked behind his sunglasses, "Newsflash, boss, The Railroad helps people and the little lady needs help."

MacCready stiffened beside her and she tilted her head. She didn't realize it until that moment, but she had definitely seen him before, "Do we know one another?"

Deacon still spoke nonchalantly, "I didn't need to meet you. I've seen you cause a big stir."

Quinn quickly grabbed MacCready's wrist, silently telling him to cool it. He let out a quiet, frustrated growl, making it obvious how impatient he was growing.

Desdemona was eyeing the two of them, reading MacCready loud and clear, "Deacon, are you vouching for her?"

Deacon nodded, "Yes. Trust me, she needs our help."

"Alright," The redhead motioned for her team to lower their weapons, "Come with me, I'll bring you down to the HQ and we can speak further. Only you, though. The mercs stay here."

"Like hell!" MacCready snarled, the two agents at Desdemona's side quickly back to business, the white haired woman hoisting up a mini gun with a grin.

"It wasn't a request," Desdemona turned and walked down a short hallway, disappearing around a corner and effectively ending the conversation.

Deacon waited for Quinn to follow, MacCready staring daggers at him, "The dog goes with her. That's not a request."

Now settled into the dimly lit Railroad HQ, Deacon sat down in a matching armchair across from her, "The precautions are necessary. In our business, if we underestimate our enemy's capabilities- it's game over."

Quinn nodded, taking in her surroundings. It wasn't what she expected from the closest thing she could compare to a spy agency, but it was interesting nonetheless, "Yeah, alright. Fair."

"Desdemona will likely be with us in a few," Deacon looked at her with an expression she couldn't read, "Are you aware of what our services require?"

"What do you mean?" Quinn glanced down at Dogmeat who made himself comfortable in a lay across her feet, "Like, payment?"

It was his turn to look confused, "No, no. Course not. There's a lot of sacrifice if you truly want to be free from the Institute. We'll need to erase your current personality and write you a new one. It'll make sure you blend right in, ya know?"

Quinn wasn't sure what face she made, but it caused a hitch in Deacon's cool demeanor, "Because.. you're.. a.. synth..?"

She burst into laughter, the noise making Dogmeat jolt to attention, "I'm not a synth."

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his clasped hands, "I saw a Courser come for you with my own two eyes."

"I'm not a synth and.. wait, how do you know that?"

"I saw the telltale flash of blue when I was up by that old vault," He was perplexed, speaking as if he were trying to convince himself of all he'd seen, "The Institute sends Coursers to wrangle up their awol synths. I've been keeping an eye on you sinc-"

"I _do_ know you!" Quinn exclaimed, a flood of memories coming to her, "In Diamond City! And Goodneighbour! Wait, are you bald?"

Deacon cracked a grin, amused at her outburst, "That's not important right now. You're really not a synth? Not just pullin' my leg?"

Desdemona turned away from a man in a lab coat, coming over to them and listening intently. Quinn felt uncomfortable under the woman's intense gaze, keeping her focus on Deacon, "I'm from a vault. I was cryogenically frozen and the Institute hired someone to retrieve me for some reason. I don't know why."

The two Railroad agents glanced at one another, their faces telling Quinn this was unheard of, "So I've been laying pretty low for awhile now. My friends and I want to take the fight to the Institute."

"Wild," Deacon sounded amazed.

Desdemona, on the other hand, didn't look thrilled, "Are you expecting us to aid in a war on the Institute?"

Quinn's eyes narrowed slightly, "No, I don't expect it. I just came to see if you'd like to."

"The Railroad has survived on being subtle and scarce. Staying low-key and saving synths is what we do," Desdemona looked impassive, lighting another cigarette for herself, "We're not interested."

"Hold on, Des'," Deacon rubbed his chin, his shaded eyes still directed at Quinn, " _We_ is a strong word. I'm interested."

"Then you can help them on your own time. I'm in the business of saving synths."

Quinn's hands balled up and she took a breath in an attempt to calm herself; she didn't like Desdemona's demeanor, "You wouldn't have to save synths if the Institute was gone, now would you?"

Deacon let out a laugh, clapping his hands together, "Damn, Des'! She's got you there."

Desdemona's eyes were narrowed, her fingers clasping her cigarette tighter, "..I suppose you do have a point. You're welcome to our resources within reason. We'll help as much as we can."

She turned to walk away, but not before offering sharp parting words, "Deacon, you'll be our middle man. You vouched for her, you deal with her. And if I say we pull the plug on this, we pull the plug. Understand that this hardly more than a fool's errand at this point and our allegiance to your cause isn't a promise until I know exactly what it is you plan to do. I hope I'm being clear."

Quinn's mouth hung open, almost unable to believe how rude she found the leader of The Railroad to be. The woman who ran an agency to protect and save synths was a bit of an asshole. Strange.

"Sorry about Des'," Deacon wore an apologetic expression, scratching the back of his neck, "She's not so bad. Just... direct. And not used to anything she'd consider disrespect. I gotta say, though...that was awesome."

Quinn laughed, confirming that she definitely liked Deacon. And _definitely_ didn't like Desdemona- not one bit.

Escorting her back to the main entrance, Deacon patted Quinn on the back, "Nice meeting you, fire cracker. We'll keep in touch, yeah?"

"Yeah, for sure. Thanks for helping me with Desdemona. I guess I'll come by when I've got news? Finding you was the first step and from here ummm, yeah that's about as far as we planned." 

Deacon grinned, giving her a wave, "Thanks for being insane enough to want to scuffle with the big bad."

Quinn grinned and turned away, hurrying over to MacCready and Hawthorne who were waiting patiently where she'd left them. MacCready looked over her shoulder towards the Railroad agents, scoffing. Quinn elbowed him and gave him a gentle push back out into the damp, chilly hallway, "At ease, RJ."

"What a high riding bi-...broad," MacCready was still grumbling about his encounter with Desdemona as they entered the gates of Goodneighbour- more upset about her than the two separate Super Mutant camps they had to deal with on their way there. 

Hawthorne slapped his friend on the back, "It's okay, man. Did she hurt your feelings?"

They made their way down the stairs of The Third Rail, more than ready for a long sit and a round of drinks. The team had a couple things to celebrate and they intended to do just that.

"Here's to only _almost_ dying at the hands at Super Mutants," Hawthorne raised a foggy shot glass of whiskey.

"And to recruiting The Railroad," Quinn tipped up a bottle of beer.

"And to not shooting anyone from The Railroad," MacCready held a shot of vodka up, the three of them clinking their drinks together.

As it always was, it was easy for them to fall into back and forth banter, the three of them chatting over a handful of rounds. Quinn spent most of the time listening to MacCready and Hawthorne recount their old missions, from strange escorts to assassinations. This was the only world she could say she actually knew, but it never ceased to amaze her how it never quite felt real. It was a difficult world and a terrifying one, and yet...

Watching MacCready laughing hard enough to have tears in his eyes, leaning hard on the table they sat at, Quinn could say with ease that she was pretty damn happy.

"Yo, Quinn!"

Her attention snapped over to the stairs where Hancock stood, the mayor looking suspiciously amused, "You might wanna come back up to the gates. You have visitors."

Quinn finished the last of her beer, setting it down on the table and sliding her chair back. MacCready looked at her questioningly and all she could do was shrug. This should be interesting.

"Want me to come up with you, short stuff?"

"You don't have to rush. Finish your drink- Hancock doesn't look stressed about it."

MacCready winked at her and she gave his forearm a squeeze before heading up the stairs with Hancock, his arm swinging up to hang off her shoulders, "You sure keep things interesting around here, sister."

Quinn laughed to try and cover the nerves she was feeling, "You wouldn't have it any other way, Hancock."

He brought her up to the front gates, pulling the door open for her, " _Tahhhh-daaaahhh._ "

She stopped in her tracks, greeted by the sight of an unfamiliar small aircraft. It's propellers were only beginning to slow, Quinn's long hair whipping around along with the dust and debris the vehicle picked up. She smiled brightly when she saw Preston step off of the vehicle, a load lifted from her shoulders. He grinned right back at her, holding his telltale hat to his head through the tumultuous winds.

"Hey, Preston! I've got great.." The two of them hugged and over his shoulder she saw someone standing there in a set of battle worn power armour, "...news."

They removed their helmet to reveal a man with short black hair, his jaw chiseled and tense. He closed the distance between them, dwarfing Quinn to a nearly comical effect. She had to tilt her head back in order to maintain eye contact with him, noticing a scar that split his right eyebrow. His stare was intense, making it hard for Quinn to maintain it. 

"Greetings, civilian. I'm Paladin Danse, Brotherhood of Steel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking forward to writing Danse! My favourite emotionally stunted hottie.


	29. Paladin Danse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say thank you all so much for reading! The support has been awesome. I hope you continue to enjoy the story of Quinn and her rag-tag team.

If Quinn thought MacCready had a bad attitude when dealing with Nick Valentine or Desdemona, she had another thing coming as they sat in the vertibird with Paladin Danse. Preston and Quinn continued to exchange glances in the tense silence, both of them able to feel the death stares between the two other men. She found it odd how MacCready hadn't hated the idea of enlisting the Brotherhood of Steel for help, but he was visibly unhappy now. Danse was much too intense for her to want to spark any sort of conversation, and MacCready was gritting his teeth so hard it was nearly audible so she looked out at the passing buildings instead.

"We'll be touching down shortly. Taking the conversation above ground is a better alternative than bringing Brotherhood business," Danse spoke with disdain, "...down there."

Quinn peeled her eyes from the beautiful beginning colours the setting sun created and gave Danse a sour look, recalling what MacCready had said about the Brotherhood and their _ideals_. She could readily admit the man was jaw-droppingly good looking, though she had a feeling his personality wasn't going to match that gorgeous exterior.

The four of them exited the aircraft, the wind much stronger at those heights and sending a shiver through Quinn. MacCready draped his duster over her shoulders and when she looked at him to smile, she realized he was still giving Danse the eye. Was it just her, or was he acting... jealous? Or threatened? She made a mental note to poke fun at him later.

"I hear you require the assistance of the Brotherhood of Steel, Miss. Hardin," Danse was giving her that analytical once over she was beginning to get used to from everyone else she met, his expression still a mask, "We've come to the Commonwealth in order to dismantle the Institute, so our goals are aligned. Our question is: why are you looking to fight them?"

Quinn blinked a couple times, looking over to Preston who was adjusting his hat, "I figured it was your story to tell, Quinn."

She nodded, finding his excuse fair enough, "Well. The Institute has been hunting me down for months and I figure the best way to stop them from doing that is leaving nothing to come after me."

Danse's composed mask flickered and he folded his huge metal hands in front of himself, "The Institute is after you? Why is that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"I've only read reports of the Institute going "after" people because they're reclaiming their property: synths," Danse's voice was slow, even- and vaguely threatening, "Which, by all accounts, aren't people at all."

Quinn could see MacCready stiffen next to her, and Preston raised a hand to stop Danse, "What are you trying to say here, Paladin Danse?"

The Paladin didn't break his eye contact with her, "Are you a synth, Miss. Hardin?"

Quinn's jaw dropped, "Why does everyone think I'm a synth?!"

MacCready stepped forward, his voice a growl, "She's not a synth, tin man."

"Whoa, whoa," Preston moved his hands into the shape of a T, "Alright, hold on. Paladin Danse, Quinn isn't a synth. She's a vault dweller.. of sorts."

Not wanting to hear another accusation from him, Quinn spoke sharply, "Look, _Paladin_ , I'm not a synth. I'm from Vault 111. I was cryogenically frozen there. So unless synths existed before the fucking war, I'm gonna say I'm human."

Danse intimidated her, but she was seeing red and that helped her continue, "I've spent the last seven months having to get used to the fact that the world I used to know is gone. I've been shot _at_ , I've been _actually_ shot. I have no tangible recollection of who the fuck I am. And I have the Institute looking to kidnap me for _who the fuck knows what_. So, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't accuse me of a goddamn thing, alright? Things have been a shitshow enough without you being a dick. You can help or you can not. I don't care!"

Quinn heard MacCready snort behind her at her act of defiance and as a military man himself, Preston looked mortified.

Danse, though, kept his even expression, "Alright, Miss. Hardin. You've made your point."

She let out a heavy breath of relief, hoping none of them noticed how much she was shaking, "Okay. Good."

"I've spoken with Elder Maxson about the possibility of an alliance and he's left it to my discretion. I'd like to move forward," Danse shifted his weight, looking between the three of them, "I'm offering to help you and your cause in any way I can as your contact for the Brotherhood. We'll continue doing research and planning on our end, while you continue yours and when the time comes- the Brotherhood will be ready to battle alongside you. That is, if you'll agree to do the same."

Preston and Quinn nodded to one another, the redhead having to grab MacCready by his forearm and tug him back knowing he was about to say something colourful to Danse, "You have yourself a deal."

"Outstanding," The Paladin stepped forward and Quinn did the same, the two of them exchanging a handshake. It was more of Danse's huge metal hand holding hers, Quinn chuckling at the visual. 

Quinn lowered her hand and froze, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The air felt dense and her skin prickled from what felt like static electricity.

"Oh shit," Her and Preston knew exactly what was about to happen through experience, both of them with their weapons out and ready, "The Institute!"

And then it happened- there was blinding blue light that came down in crackling pillars, the beams bouncing off the ground in every direction like a shorted fuse, "Preston, there's more than one!"

She felt like her voice was drowned out by the sound of electric crackling, thick smoke spreading along the rooftop. It was a screen heavy enough for her to barely make out the shapes of Preston and Danse.

Danse put his helmet on and shouted, "Pilot- up in the air! Go, go! Circle and await further instruction!"

The smog dissipated and there stood a handful of what Quinn assumed were less complex synths, every one of them armed with those huge white guns. Her heart hammered in her chest and MacCready moved in front of her, ready to fight as always.

Quinn grabbed his shirt, tugging on it, "They won't hurt me, RJ. I don't think they're allowed to? I should be standing in front of _you_."

He shook his head, sparing a second to look back at her, "If they're gonna try to take you, they have to go through me first, short stuff."

The unmistakable sound of laser weapon fire started and MacCready held Quinn behind him by her wrist, using his other hand to aim and shoot the handgun he'd taken from its holster. She wanted to help and he was having none of it, holding her in place with a vice-like grip. It always surprised her just how strong he was. The sounds of the battle were deafening, MacCready's gunshots mixed in with the snap of the lasers and the deep boom of Preston's musket.

Suddenly, MacCready's full weight came back on her and they both unceremoniously toppled to the ground, the mercenary shouting something to her that she couldn't make out. She was on her hands and knees preparing to stand when her legs were taken out from under her, the air knocked out of her lungs when she hit the ground again. 

"RJ!" Quinn flailed in an attempt to grab hold of anything that would stop the synth from dragging her across the rooftop, her legs pinned together at the ankles by the robot's painfully strong hold.

MacCready was fending off the synth that had tackled him, using his rifle as a barrier between him and it, his handgun just out of reach. He struggled under the weight of his assailant, letting go of the rifle and ramming his hand into the open neck of the robot. Grabbing a handful of the parts inside, MacCready ripped them out and the synth went limp instantaneously, its head dropping forward.

Blue light shone brightly against the darkening sky and a second round of synths appeared on the rooftop, prompting Danse to yell into his helmet's radio, "It's hot down here! We need suppressive fire and _mind_ your aim!"

Quinn managed to grasp on to a bent pipe protruding from the roof, screaming for MacCready again, the mercenary rolling the non-functioning synth from on top of him and rushing towards her. Rapid gunfire started and he flinched, but he kept running. The synth pulling her by her legs was too strong for her and her hands slipped off of the pipe.

There was too much going on on the rooftop and Quinn was both overwhelmed and terrified, the feeling of static coursing through her and making her feel dizzy. Something was happening. The blue light returned and this time it was surrounding her, her whole body feeling uncomfortably warm.

"Garvey!" MacCready called out to the Minuteman with a frantic voice, tossing his rifle up and catching it in a hold as if it were a bat. He swung over her with his entire body and she would have heard a loud crack if not for the buzzing filling her head. The hold on her ankles loosened and she turned over to see MacCready hitting the synth again with the full force of his rifle, Preston cranking his musket furiously, and Danse running over in his heavy armour, Quinn able to feel the ground vibrating under her. The synth was relentless, lunging for her again even with a portion of its head caved in, its neck bent at a grotesque angle. It grabbed her by the front of her jacket and the buzzing in her head grew louder, every inch of her feeling like it had a painful case of pins and needles. The blue light was growing stronger and she couldn't see any of her companions. MacCready booted the synth in the head hard enough for it to topple backwards, Danse there to grasp the robot's entire head with his metal hand. He threw the synth backwards and as it slid across the rooftop, Preston aimed his musket and pulled the trigger. A laser burn appeared in the middle of it's forehead and there was the smallest spark of failing electrical components before it finally folded in on itself. The blue lights bounced along the ground in a fizzling furry, but then they faded and they were left in the near-dark.

To her it felt like a lifetime, but in reality, the moment the blue pillar appeared to the moment the synth was dispatched took less than five seconds.

Quinn blinked rapidly, her vision compromised, "Fucking he-"

She felt hands on her shoulders and she instinctively jumped. The hands moved to close over her own and she felt well-worn leather gloves. Her vision pulled itself together and she was looking at Preston who was kneeling in front of her, "Quinn, are you okay?"

"Never better, Preston," Quinn managed a small laugh, even though didn't feel like laughing, "Never better."

He smiled warmly and patted her cheek with his gloved hand, "Lets get you up."

Preston pulled her to her feet and she shook herself off, every inch of her body still tingling from the transportation beam. The heaviness of MacCready's duster settled over her shoulders once again and the weight felt comforting. He walked in front of her and stood next to Preston, giving her a good once over, "You sure you're alright?"

"Cross my heart," She trailed a finger over her heart in an X.

"You're clear to land," Danse spoke to his pilot, then removing his helmet to speak to Quinn, "I suppose I've seen your plight first-hand, Miss Hardin. That was a close call. Were you injured?"

Quinn was much too tired to want to come up with something sarcastic to say, "Only a few scrapes. I'm fine, Paladin."

"Good to hear," He nodded curtly and spoke to Preston and MacCready, "I'm afraid you may have a mole in your midst. I don't believe in coincidences and the Institute appearing shortly after the arrival of the Brotherhood would be a big one. The synths had two clear targets: Miss Hardin and myself. The Institute was likely tipped off."

Preston sighed, nodding, "You're right. The synths had no interest in me. I think the only reason they had focus on MacCready was to keep him busy and get to Quinn. This is bad."

MacCready's brow was furrowed, "It had to have been someone in Goodneighbour."

The Paladin motioned towards the vertibird, "We'll take you back down. It wouldn't be wise to remain out in the open."

The trio were walking back towards the gates of the town when Danse spoke up, "Miss Hardin? A word if I may?"

Quinn suppressed a laugh at the face MacCready made, waving him and Preston towards the gates, "I'll catch up."

Danse was rifling through a large military bag as she approached and he turned around to hand her something, "You can use this to contact me directly on channel three, should you need anything. As your Brotherhood of Steel contact, I'll do what I can at your request."

Quinn turned the radio over in her hand, clipping it on to her belt, "Thanks, Paladin."

"I recommend you start the hunt for your mole as soon as possible," Danse looked over her head to the neon signs of Goodneighbor, "If they were paid to be used as eyes in the town, I wouldn't put it passed the Institute to pay this person to make an attempt on capturing you themselves. I could assist in the hunt, if you wish."

The thought of Danse and Hancock meeting made her cringe inwardly. In fact, the thought of someone as clean-cut as Danse meeting anyone from Goodneighbour made her uneasy. The last thing she needed was a town wide brawl started by Danse trying to arrest everyone.. or whatever it was that he did to "undesirables", "It's alright, Paladin. I think you'll freak them out a little."

Quinn was certain she saw the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips and he nodded, "Fair enough."

Patting the radio on her waist, she took a few steps back towards the gate, "I guess I'll see you later, Paladin."

His stance straightened and he put his right fist to his chest, "Ad Victoriam."

Without any idea of how to respond to what he'd said, she gave him a salute and a grin, "Yeah, yeah, back at you. I think. See you around."

She turned on her heels and left Danse there, resisting the urge to look back and see if she'd managed to get him to break that expressionless face of his.

The whirring of the vertibird's blades started as she walked into Goodneighbour, both MacCready and Preston waiting for her. They made the unanimous decision to return to The Third Rail to fill Hawthorne in on the bad news and wind down with a round- but first, Quinn wanted to head to Hotel Rexford and change out of the clothes she'd been dragged across the rooftop in.

"You didn't have to escort me to change my clothes, RJ," Quinn spoke while she removed her shirt, digging in the dresser for some of the clothing she left behind when they'd left for Diamond City.

He grinned, leaning against the desk across the room and watching her, "Pfft. I came here to _see_ you change your clothes."

Pulling on a black t-shirt, she mock seriously glared at him, "You're still the worst, _MacCready_."

MacCready smirked and she decided it was time to yank his chain a little, "So, what's with you and Paladin Danse? I thought you were gonna break some teeth with how hard your jaw was clenched the second you met him."

He didn't expect the topic, opening his mouth a few times to debate what to say, "What? I said they'd be good to have on our side, I didn't say I was gonna like them."

"Do you like anyone?" Quinn pulled on another pair of jeans, putting her belt through its loops.

He chuckled at her, not bothering to hide his eyes looking her up and down, "I like you."

"Shut up, RJ," She didn't try not to smile at him, "I think you're jeaaaaaaalous."

Again, he was caught off guard, a rare pink hue showing up on his cheeks, "Of the tin man? Please."

Quinn was grinning, clipping the radio back on to her belt, "Hmm, I think you are."

"Not in a million years," He looked curiously at the radio, "Hey, where'd that come from?"

"Oh, this?" Quinn's lips curled into a mischievous little smile, "Just something from my new boyfriend."

She shrieked and jumped back when MacCready came at her. Giggling, she pulled the door open and ran down the hall, her mercenary chasing after her with a boyish grin on his face, "Get back here, two-timer!"


	30. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning! Sorry for any minor errors; I'm posting this before I run to work! Have a great day and thanks for reading. <3

"You've gotta be _fucking_ kidding me!" Hancock slammed a fist down on his desk and Quinn jumped in her chair. Although he was beyond upset, he looked apologetic at her reaction, "Sorry bout that."

Quinn shook her head, "It's okay. I knew you'd be pissed... like, royally."

She hadn't been excited to break the news of the possibility of a traitor in Goodneighbour to Hancock; there were two things that pissed him off: the Institute and insubordination. Adding in immediate danger to a friend of his was bound to have him blood thirsty. So there she was as the messenger, hoping she wouldn't get shot. 

"Goddamnit," He hissed and leaned back heavily in his chair, "I told them you were under our protection. _I told them._ "

Quinn scratched at her knee through a hole in her jeans, unsure of what she should say, "Look.. um, it's okay, Hancock."

"No," He stood up and smoothed the front of his jacket, "It sure as hell isn't. You were almost taken and some fucker here might have caused that."

"Hancock, what are you-" The mayor strode by her and was heading for the door of his office, Quinn quick to follow him, "Hey, what are you doing?"

"I'm finding out who did this _now_ ," He pulled the door open, revealing the hallway and spiral staircase that led down to the ground floor, "And making em' pay."

Hancock was murmuring closely to a member of the Neighbourhood Watch, the man nodding and immediately signalling to the others to follow him- quickly disappearing down the stairs. 

Before he was out of reach on his warpath, Quinn grabbed him by the arm, "Hancock, hold on. Please. What are you doing?"

He took a breath, looking as if he were done seeing red- for now, "I'm weeding out the mole. I promised you were gonna be safe in my town and I'm keeping my promise. I run this goddamn hole and whoever had the balls to go against me is getting their reward."

"Besides," Hancock shrugged casually, clipping her on the chin gently with his knuckles, "I think you've been through enough, doll. Ain't nobody getting you taken from us. Now, go grab MacCready, Hawthorne and the boy scout, would ya? It's time for a little speech. Oh- and I'm gonna need to borrow Dogmeat."

Quinn stood below the balcony with the others, glancing over at her companions. Preston looked hilariously out of place in the crowd, Hawthorne was chatting with Ham and MacCready sat comfortably leaned back on one of the benches with a smoke in hand, looking up at the balcony and waiting for the show to start. He was itching to get started on the hunt, needing quite the distraction from Quinn the night before to get him to wait until the next day.

"People of Goodneighbour," Hancock started above them, his voice firm and loud enough to carry clearly down to them, "We are gathered here today because it's come to my attention that I was not clear enough previously."

Quinn heard murmurs amongst the residents, listening as they whispered to one another and questioning what Hancock was talking about. She'd enlisted her friends to watch the crowd carefully during the mayor's speech with the hopes that their mole would show signs of discomfort. Having Hancock coming for their head would certainly make anyone nervous.

"The Institute is our enemy! We do not work for the Institute! We do not sell our own out to the Institute! And what's really got my nuts in a knot is waking up today to find out we have a rat amongst us." Hancock glared down into the crowd, his black eyes looking more menacing than she'd ever seen them, "We don't tolerate rats here in Goodneighbour."

The chatter grew louder, Hancock's words causing a stir, "I have every possible exit locked down by the Neighbourhood Watch and I'll personally be combing through every single god-fucking-damn home, suite, office and hole in the wall around these parts. Any evidence of ties to the _fucking_ Institute will be punished. Now sit tight, folks. Nobody leaves this area until I'm finished without my say so. If you have nothing to hide then you have nothing to fear."

He pushed away from the balcony's railing, disappearing back behind the door.

Quinn continued to look from face to face, nobody coming across as any more anxious than a normal person would being blocked off by men with guns. 

"Anything?" MacCready came up beside her, leaning back against the brick wall with crossed arms.

"No, not yet. You?" She inched in closer to him, leaning her head against his arm.

He shook his head, his trained eyes not leaving the crowd in front of them. Nearly every aspect of MacCready changed when he was being the mercenary version of himself. He stood straighter and firmer. His face fell into a serious mask. Those gorgeous blue eyes became tense enough to make her shiver. 

God, he was so sexy.

Quinn rolled her eyes at herself as she found herself, again, thinking something entirely inappropriate for the situation because of him. The last time involved her feeling jealous at the other end of Roxy's gun when she'd eluded to sleeping with MacCready. The mercenary certainly did a number of her priorities.

Clearing her throat, she focused her attention back to the residents of Goodneighbour, hoping she could spot anything that could help them. She had a feeling it would be a long day.

Hours passed and Quinn was growing restless and the tension was thick amongst the people. Luckily, nobody was stupid enough to try and leave the contained area, but patience was wearing thin. Some were frustrated at the idea of having their things picked through, but most were scared thinking about the Institute breaching their walls. 

"A rat? Who do you think it is?"

"We're not safe here."

"What do you think Hancock will do if he catches the snitch?"

"Man, I just need a drink."

Quinn was lost in the buzz of voices, zoned out completely when she heard Hancock's gravelly voice, "Dogmeat- get em'."

She turned her head and watched the dog bare his teeth and snarl, bolting into the crowd with purpose. He leapt at a bald, bearded man decked out in brown leather, his powerful jaws grabbing him by his forearm.

"Get this fucking mutt off of me!" He struggled to tear his arm from Dogmeat, his face contorted from the pain.

Hancock walked through the crowd that had parted for him, stopping before the man, "Down, boy."

Dogmeat complied, barking once and turning tail to bounce back over to Quinn. He looked up at her with his brown eyes as if asking her if he did good and she smiled down at him, scratching under his chin, "Always, buddy."

"Take him to the front," Hancock spoke to agents of the Neighbourhood Watch, then addressing everyone else, "As you were, folks. Give me five before you head on over to the gates."

Quinn couldn't see his expression with his back to her, but his voice gave her chills, "That's all I'm gonna need."

The mayor followed after his men who were escorting the bald man, the accused's shoulders held curiously high for someone who was very well on his way to his death.

Quinn and company followed after the procession, the Neighbourhood Watch men shoving the man into the center of the bricked square. He regained his proper footing and turned to face Hancock, neither men saying anything for a few beats.

"Finn, you were always a dickhead, but selling out a girl to the Institute? Within my fucking walls, to boot?" Hancock, put his hand into his pocket, taking out something and showing it to Finn on the palm of his scarred hand.

Finn eyed the object and he looked uncomfortable before quickly regaining his composure, Hancock pocketing whatever it was again, "What d'you care, Hancock? She ain't one of us."

"No love for your mayor, Finn? I told you she was under our goddamn wing and she sure as shit is one of us- more than your traitorous hide," Hancock shook his head, his body language tense- unlike him any other time.

Finn spit on the ground at the ghoul's feet, "You're soft, Hancock. A piece of ass walks through the gate and you risk us all for it. You keep letting _outsiders_ walk all over us, one day there'll be a new mayor."

Hancock's right hand twitched at his side, "Come on, man. This is me we're talking about. Let me tell you something..."

He stepped closer to Finn, opening his arms to welcoming him in closer. Finn's eyes darted to his left hand, the mayor using the distraction to plant a switchblade into the man's stomach over and over until he was satisfied. Grunting angrily, Hancock let Finn slump to the ground.

"Now why'd ya have to go and act like a fucking fool, huh? Breakin' my heart over here," He wiped the knife off on his jacket and returned the blade into the handle. Hancock kneeled next to Finn, blood pooling under his fallen body, "You don't fuck with me. You don't fuck with my town. You _do not_ fuck with my friends. That piece of ass you sold out is better than you could have ever hoped to be, you sack of shit."

Quinn could feel herself shaking, the intensity of the situation making her feel uneasy. The man was single-handedly going to get her taken by the Institute and yet she felt sorry for him dying so violently. She was too soft for her own good, sometimes, and she knew it. Looking away from the pooling blood, she focused her eyes on Hancock.

Hancock took the mystery item from his pocket again after giving Finn's corpse a hearty kick, fiddling with it against his ear. When he lowered his hand, she could tell that it was a white ear piece.

"Hey, anyone out there?" He awaited a response- his lips turning up into a devilish smile, "Kindest regards from Goodneighbour, you fucks."

Hancock removed the piece from his ear, tossing it on to the ground and stomping down on it with his heavy boot. 

"That's all she wrote for Finn," He stepped over the dead man's body, leaving it there for the Neighbourhood Watch to drag out into the street.

"That as-.. idiot was reporting to the Institute this whole time?" MacCready sounded dumbfounded, shaking his head at the very thought, "And here I brought Quinn to be safe."

The disappointed was clear in the mercenary's voice and she intertwined her fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Nobody could have known, MacCready," Hawthorne put a hand on his shoulder and shook him reassuringly, Preston nodding in agreement next to him.

Quinn used her free hand to rest on Hancock's arm. There was no way she could repay him for what he'd just done for her and even if she wasn't certain how she felt about how the result, she was grateful to the ghoul, "Thanks, John."

"Oooo," Hancock grinned at her, "I've upgraded to John? Better watch out, MacCready. You've got competition. You know, other than that dreamy Brotherhood guy."

That managed to break MacCready out of his little funk and he snorted, "Yeah, yeah. Can we go drink now?"

The men and Dogmeat started back to The Third Rail, Quinn signalling MacCready to go ahead while she tugged at Hancock's sleeve, "Hey, John?"

Hancock finished lighting a cigarette, "Hmm?" 

"Thank you. Really," Quinn could feel herself getting emotional- her throat tightening, "Up on the rooftop when they almost got me. There was this blue light all around me and I felt really... weird. I had to have been a second away from.. whatever it is they want me for."

Quinn's bottom lip quivered, the weight of that realization sitting heavily, "I'm scared, John. I'm really scared and I just.."

A shaking breath forced itself from her chest and she put the back of her hand to her mouth in an effort to stop the rush of emotions, hot tears trailing down her face. Hancock wrapped his arms around her, pressing her to him, "Hey, now. Don't cry. Crying women are terrifying."

Quinn laughed through her tears, her face pressed against his chest, "I'm s-sorry. I've been trying to.. to just be less wigged out f-for RJ.. but.."

"Shhh, it's okay," Hancock's hand rested at the back of her head, "I'm real sorry you're going through all this bullshit, sweetheart. I've got your back. We all do, okay?"

Her head barely moved against his chest in a nod, her crying settled down to sniffling. It was cathartic letting loose if only for a moment. Quinn sighed and stepped back from the ghoul's embrace and he moved his hands to her shoulders, giving her the first actual _smile_ she'd seen from him, "Aint nobody messin' with ya, doll. Except for me; that's my job."

Quinn choked out a laugh, rubbing her eyes with the sleeved of her shirt to wipe away the tears, "Yeah. Time for drinks?"

Hancock nodded and patted her cheeks with a grin, "Time for drinks."

Down at The Third Rail, Quinn sat herself down next to MacCready and beamed at him, trying her best to hide the fact that she'd been crying. He slid his hand under the table and rested it on her thigh, leaning in and kissing the side of her head. 

"Drinks on me, kids," Hancock declared, signalling over to Charlie to bring over a round, "It's been a tense day."

Quinn nursed a Nuka and rye for some time, listening to everyone else chat. Her mind continued to float back to the Institute and all the things they could possibly want from her. None of the options were good and most made her skin crawl. Knowing they could not only zap in from anywhere, but take her with them scared her beyond anything she'd ever felt before. And if they could teleport- why weren't the pushing harder to get her? There were too many questions and not enough answers.

MacCready patted her thigh and she snapped back to reality, her drink idly pressed against her bottom lip, "Oh, hi."  
He gave her a nudge, studying her face, "Where'd you go?"

Quinn rested her head on his shoulder and shook her head, "Nowhere. Just tired. Been a long couple of days."

Hooting to a crowd of drifters he'd been mingling with, Hawthorne settled back in at their table. He tossed back another shot and leaned back in his chair, "Never a dull moment with you guys, but I've gotta get my ass back to Diamond City in the morning. Check on my gran. Make sure she's taking care of all those damn cats."

Quinn perked up, back to the conversation, "Cats? You have cats and you didn't tell me? Hawthorne!"

The mercenary nodded, "Twenty five of em."

"Shut up!" Quinn slapped her hands on the table in excitement, the other men looking more or less baffled, "I can't believe you've kept this information from me."

"Figured you were more of a dog person," He shrugged, raising his brows at MacCready, "And I'm not talking about Dogmeat."

The table erupted in laughter, MacCready tossing a beer bottle cap at his friend, "You're a bunch of comedians."

A couple rounds later and Quinn was ready to call it a night, her head swimming from the booze and her ability to push away her uncomfortable thoughts about the Institute waning, "Okay, boys. I'm done for the night. Hancock has struck again with his generosity."

Hancock chuckled, leaning against the table with countless shot glasses stacked in front of him, "For the people, ya feel?"

Preston nodded, slouched in his chair and pushing his empty beer to the center of the table, "I feel."

Quinn giggled at the sight of drunk Preston, having never seen him more than a beer or two in. He was always a clean-cut gentleman and she hadn't been convinced that the man knew what it was like to relax, "Preston, you're turning in, too."

The Minuteman nodded at her instruction, yawning, "I think that's a great plan, Quinn."

"But! Before I'm off," Quinn pulled her camera from her bag, "I want a picture of you guys. I doubt I'll get you all in the same room again for a bit."

Enlisting the help of Magnolia between her sets, the group shuffled around in drunken clumsiness to arrange themselves for a group photo. They managed to figure themselves out and hold still enough for the singer to snap a picture of the group. 

After a round of hugs, Quinn and MacCready made their way back to Hotel Rexford with Dogmeat in tow. They were leaning on one another and laughing at nothing, MacCready grasping her hand and pushing her away so he could twirl her around.

He held her against him and opened the door to the suite, walking in with her in his arms and dropping their bags to the floor, "Home sweet home."

Dogmeat brushed by their legs and made himself comfortable in his favourite spot under the table, leaving the two of them to dance across the floor. MacCready swept her up off her feet and laid her down on to the bed. He tossed his jacket to the floor and stretched out next to her. Feeling around with uncoordinated hands for the thin sheet they used as a blanket, he pulled it up right under her chin. 

Quinn shifted around and nuzzled her face against his chest, her fears and worries melting away. She knew they'd return soon enough, but she wanted to enjoy the peace while it lasted. He had a staggering effect on her in endless ways. These quiet moments with MacCready were things she cherished; they were simple unlike the rest of the wasteland. There was so much she could say to him in that moment. Beautiful, meaningful things she had that sat at the tip of her tongue. 

"Hey, RJ...?" She mumbled into his shirt, all those words ready to spill out.

His fingers lazily played with her hair, her red hair coiled around the digits, "Mm?"

Quinn didn't reply, already comfortably asleep in his arms. She dreamed of another life- not of the images she'd seen of her past life as she often did. It was a life in the Commonwealth, her days spent with her newfound friends without the threat of the Institute looming over them.


	31. Toy Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. Our favourite ghoulish mayor. And the fluffiest of fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! Excuse me, over 100 kudos?! That's so so so so awesome. Thank you all a ton. I've said it before, but I'm so glad you all enjoy the story because I'm enjoying writing it.

"Is Valentine's Day a thing anymore?" Quinn tilted her head inquisitively, marking the days off on a calendar she'd drawn up months ago, realizing it was the fourteenth.

MacCready looked up at her from his comic book, slouched comfortably in his armchair, "Valentine's Day?"

She wasn't surprised the hallmark holiday didn't make the cut, shrugging from her spot on the bed where she laid lazily, "Old holiday from my time. It was like... hmmm."

Sitting up, she brushed her fingers through her hair while she tried to pick out her words, "Jesus. I never realized how hard it would be to explain everyday stuff now that I live in actual hell."

MacCready snorted, crossing his feet at the ankles on the coffee table, "Try for me? I've kind of always wanted to ask you more about how everything used to be; most of the old ways were wiped off the map."

"Hmm, okay. So Valentine's Day was on February fourteenth and it was a day where lover's expressed their love for one another with romantic gestures- flowers, chocolates, jewelry- that kinda stuff. It was also a day used for people who had feelings for someone to come on out with it and express how they felt."

"Huh," MacCready closed the comic book and tucked it next to the chair's cushion and armrest, "You had a day set aside for loving people?"

Quinn shrugged again, "Sort of. People loved each other all the time, it's not like it was only allowed on that day. I guess it was supposed to be more like a day that celebrated the idea of love as a whole."

"That's weird."

"You're only saying that because you live in the post-apocalyptic wasteland where your normal is being shot and everyone's cranky and love is dead," Quinn huffed, pouting enough to make MacCready grin.

Pushing up from the chair, he walked across the room and crawled on to the bed so he was leaned over her, his hands pressed into the mattress next to her. Her breath caught in her throat and she blinked up at him, warmth spreading through her cheeks. He showed her that smirk of his before his lips were on hers, kissing her hard enough to make her gasp. MacCready pulled back as quickly as he'd gone in, chuckling, "Mn, it's not all bad, is it?"

She looked up at him with parted lips, feeling dazed from his kiss, "No, not all bad."

MacCready approved of her reaction, putting a hand on her shoulder and pushing her back into a lay. He trailed a rough hand up along her thigh, his fingers teasing up into the sleep shorts she wore. Quinn's hips wiggled and she bit down on her lower lip. She could feel a tingling sensation spreading down her stomach, her arousal spiking just from the way he looked down at her- his blue eyes a little darker. A little wicked.

"RJ.." She whined as he palmed in between her legs, her thighs parting enough to welcome his actions. It was dizzying how he could get her going from zero to sixty in mere moments, his touch making her instantly weak.

"I was thinking..." He pressed his palm firmer to her, his middle finger teasing along the dampening material of her shorts, "I could take some time out of my extremely busy day to show you just how _good_ it can be in this wasteland."

Quinn choked out a laugh at the sarcastic side of his remark, her body warming more in response to the offer. Goddamnit, he was so arrogant and so confident and it was so sexy. Smirking again, he grabbed her hips with both hands and pulled her forward, forcing her legs apart around his waist. He braced himself up with a hand next to her head, his other returning to the task at hand. 

"Damn," MacCready pushed aside her shorts, his fingers trailing against her wet curls. He dipped two fingers into her, how tight she was around them making him lick his lips. After waiting for her to adjust, he started to slide in and out of her, the pads of his fingers pressing up against a spot so sensitive she yelped. Liking what that did to her, he curled his fingers up harder and pumped his hand faster, building a rhythm that had her panting and whimpering her approval.

The mercenary sat up on his knees, grabbing her hip hard enough to hold her still. She heard that satisfied rumble in his chest as he stopped pumping his hand, focusing on a frantic assault with a rapid-fire "come here" motion, his thumb pressing to her clit. Quinn wanted to be quiet, she tried to, but there was no hope for her. She was thrown over the edge into her climax, the outcry she let loose likely loud enough to alert the whole damn floor. 

"Fuckfuckfuck!" She writhed against his firm hold on her, her back arching off of the mattress, "Stop- I can't!"

MacCready chuckled, his hand coming to a halt. Quinn was left breathless, her eyes closed,"RJ.. oh my God."

"Oh, angel," He abruptly flipped her over on to her stomach, taking handfuls of her ass and kneading it, "I'm not done with you, yet."

Quinn quivered under his weight, yelping when he grabbed her hips and pulled her ass up. Jesus Christ, she never considered death by being too turned on, but at this rate he could just pull it off. MacCready shimmied her shorts down the curve of her ass, leaving them bunched up just low enough for him to have her. She threw her hair over one shoulder, turning her head to look back at him, watching him admire the curves of her body while he unbuttoned his jeans. Pushing them down along with his boxers, Quinn appreciatively hummed at the sight of his arousal, her eyes trailing along that delicious line of his hip that disappeared behind the tight white shirt he wore. He took the base of his cock into his hand, trailing himself along her pressed together thighs, teasing her entrance until she whined.

"RJ.." Quinn shook her hips impatiently and he covered them with his large hands, pulling her back and thrusting forward into her. He filled her entirely, the sensation teetering between pleasure and pain and it felt _so_ good. Her upper body remained pressed down, her cry coming out against the mattress.

MacCready was all kinds of different lovers wrapped up into one. He could be tender. Slow. Passionate. He could do it all. At that moment, he was her favourite- rough and commanding. He knew what he wanted and she wanted him to have it, her body rocked with every thrust of his hips. The way he embedded himself into her felt good beyond words, only unintelligble sounds of utter pleasure coming from her. 

Grabbed by her waist, Quinn was raised up and pressed to MacCready's chest as he continued his pace, her head dropping back against his shoulder. She could feel the grin on his face while he grunted against her cheek, his hands twitching against her sides. The familiar pressure was building low in her abdomen, her breathing heavy, breasts bouncing underneath her tank top. MacCready's hand found its way between her legs again, drawing circles around her clit. The sensation was too much and she fell forward, her arms catching her and he didn't miss a beat- using her new position to penetrate up into her harder. 

With his hand still at work between her legs, Quinn couldn't hold on any longer and her second orgasm ripped through her, his name coming out strangled. It felt good enough to almost make her cry, his continued fucking making it hard to see straight. He returned his hands to her hips, pulling her back hard against him a handful more times before he shuddered and pulled out of her, pumping a closed fist along his impressive length and cumming on her ass, "F-fuck..!"

They both collapsed back on to the bed, disheveled with their clothing in all sorts of disarray. Quinn was still shaking from the aftermath of her second orgasm, a few strands of her hair slick to her forehead with sweat. MacCready looked satisfied, reaching blindly next to the bed and grabbing a clean hand towel from Quinn's bag. He picked himself back up into a sit, chuckling and cleaning off her rear while she continued to recover.

Dropping back down next to her, he pulled his jeans back up as she did the same with her shorts, his breathing coming back to near normal, "See? It's not so bad."

Quinn laughed, the sound faraway and sleepy. Not saying anything else, she moved in closer to him and tucked her face against his chest. After a wild ride like that, she felt she deserved an afternoon nap.  
When she woke a couple hours later, MacCready was no longer next to her and Dogmeat was sleeping in his stead, his snout covered under a paw. She sat up and yawned, looking around to find he wasn't in the room with her. Her mind was still foggy enough for her to comfortably fall back asleep- and she was tempted, but instead crawling out of bed and changing into something more appropriate for the streets of Goodneighbour. On her way out the door, Dogmeat barked and she looked over him to realize he had something tucked into his bandana. Quinn grinned, finding it was a folded piece of paper.

_**Short stuff,** _

_**I'm gonna run a job or two. And before you think to get annoyed that I didn't take you, just think about how much more annoyed you'd be if I woke you up.** _

She couldn't help but laugh at that. MacCready knew her well. 

_**I'll be back tonight. Try to stay out of trouble. Put in a solid effort.** _

_**-RJ** _

MacCready could make her smile and he wasn't even there. She kissed the note and placed it on the dresser, heading out of the suite with a little pep in her step.

"Quinn! Just the lady I was hoping to see," Hancock looked up from his desk, opening his arm wide to invite her in to his office.

She looked at him with suspicion, pushed the chair in front of his desk closer before lowering herself down on to it, "Dare I ask why, John?"

He winked at her, his trademark mischievous grin formed on his mouth, "You're just a damn picture, a guy's always hoping to see ya."

Quinn knew she blushed at that, crumpling a piece of paper from his desk and chucking it at him, "Oh my god, shut up."

Hancock laughed, his hands up in mock defense, "What? You can't blame a guy for noticing a good lookin lady. The Commonwealth ain't seen the likes of you."

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

He scoffed in disbelief, "As if you didn't realize that. Nothing about you is typical for these parts. You're far too pretty and vibrant for this shithole- and it shows. MacCready's a lucky son of a bitch."

Quinn chuckled, covering her face, "Whatever."

"Seriously. You have _all_ your teeth and they're so pearly white. It's ridiculous." Hancock spoke as if he were exasperated, grabbing the ball of paper she'd tossed at him and throwing it back.

"You're a shameless flirt, John Hancock," Quinn shook her head at him and he stood and bowed in response. 

Coming around the desk, Hancock offered her his arm, "You know it, doll. Third Rail?"

"Third Rail," She nodded in agreement and smiled at him, taking his arm.

The two of them sat at the bar, the mayor enjoying the bustle of the main area over the VIP section, drinking slow and chatting. Quinn found herself smiling at Hancock as he spoke- cracking his ridiculous jokes and being generally inappropriate; he was a great guy. Tough, frighteningly intimidating when he wanted to be, but so good. He'd always been kind to her and she'd grown very fond of the ghoul and all his wackiness. 

"Hey, John?" Quinn spoke curiously, taking a sip of her beer.

He finished off his own beer, sliding it over to his growing line of discarded ones, "What's up, doll?"

"What's your story? You know mine. I mean.. like, what little there is to know considering I have, what, eight months of a life to speak for," She chuckled at herself, "But you've never actually told me a hell of a lot about _you_. Which is shocking because I can never get you to shut up."

Hancock laughed, opening another beer with his bare hand, "Oh-ho-ho. My favourite subject."

Quinn turned on the bar stool to face him, leaning an elbow against the bar, "I'm all ears."

"I came into this town about.. a decade ago? Had a smooth set of skin back then," He started, pausing for a long guzzle of beer, "While I was busy making myself a pillar of this community, I would go on these... like... wild tears. I was young."

"Any chems I could find, the more exotic, the better. Finally found this experimental drug. Only one of its kind left and only one hit. Ohhh man, the high was so worth it. Yeah, I'm living with the side effects, but hey, what's not to love about immortality?"

Quinn blinked, "You're... immortal?"

"Well, not exactly. Ghouls just age really, really slow. Something about the rads, maybe? Who knows."

She took the last sip of her beer, "Is there like a wasteland code of just not being afraid of death or something? Couldn't you have died taking some insane experimental drug?"

"I like to think of death as the ultimate drug trip. When it happens, I'll be too busy enjoying it to have regrets. Ya only have one life, why not try it all?"

He was insane, but Quinn admired the mayor, "You get to have all the fun. I've spent most of my time being babysat."

Hancock looked at her with those pitch black eyes- his gaze soft, "Oh, come on, doll. It couldn't be the worst thing to have people care about you. You're so tiny, who wouldn't want to protect ya?"

A scoff escaped her lips, picking at the label of her empty drink, "Finn sure didn't."

"That prick doesn't count," Hancock's voice sharpened momentarily, quickly coming back down, "I'm happy he's dead, but... well. I ain't exactly proud of having to put you through that. That sort of heavy-handed dictatorial shit ain't my usual style. But I was so pissed, Quinn. Goddamn was I pissed. I wasn't thinking. I know you tried to bring me down- and I appreciate that."

Quinn tilted her head, shocked that Hancock would ever be sorry for an act of violence, "Why are you sorry?"

"Ehhhh," He shrugged, adjusting his hat, "For tearing the town apart against the will of the people and, well, stabbing a man to death in the street in front of you didn't feel stellar, either."

Quinn though about how she felt watching Finn die, knowing it didn't sit well with her. He deserved to die, she knew that much... it just, almost frightened her to see someone die that _personally_. She'd shot people, she'd seen people shoot others, she'd seen death, but it felt different somehow.

She reached over Hancock and grabbed another beer, opening it using the lip of the bar, "It's not a big deal. Finn wasn't the first person I've seen taken care of."

The ghoul was looking at the wall of liquor, "See, that's where you're wrong. Abusing power like that.. It is a big deal."

Quinn wasn't used to seeing Hancock anything but boisterous, putting a hand on his forearm and giving it a little shake, "Either way, dealing with him was the right move."

"Mn. True. But it doesn't change the fact that he's outta the picture cause of me. Dumb fuck died bad. Hell, that sorta bull's the whole reason I became mayor in the first place. Some ass named Vic ran the town for I don't know how long before that. Guy was scum. Made Finn look like a saint. Used us drifters like his own personal piggy bank. He had this goon squad he'd use to keep people in line. Every so often he'd let them off the leash. Go blow off steam on the populace at large."

He practically chugged the entire bottle of beer at the memories, taking a breath, "Folks with homes could lock their doors. But us drifters, we got it bad. There was one night, some drifter said something to them. They cracked him open like a can of Cram on the pavement. And we all just stood there. Did nothing."

"Hey," Quinn looked at him sadly, "You can't blame yourself. It sounds like you were outmatched. Wouldn't have done anything to get yourself killed, too."

He finally looked at her, his sad eyes mirroring hers, but he did smile a little, "You're right. But it was still spineless."

"I felt like less than nothing. Afterwards, I got so high, I blacked out completely. When I finally came to, I was on the floor of the Old State House. Right in front of the clothes of John Hancock. John Hancock, first American hoodlum and defender of the people."

It dawned on Quinn that, obviously, John Hancock wasn't his real name, feeling dumb she hadn't caught that before. Instead of saying anything, she let him continue. It sounded like he needed to get all of it out, "I might've still been high, but those clothes spoke to me, told me what I needed to do. I smashed the case, put them on, and started a new life as Hancock. After that, I went clean for a bit, got organized, convinced KL-E-0 to loan me some hardware."

Hancock motioned for Charlie for a round of shots, knocking one back before he kept going, "Got a crew of drifters together and headed out into the ruins. Started training. Next time Vic's boys went on their tear, we'd be ready for em'."

"So you fucked them all up, right?" Quinn had to force the words out, cringing at the burn from the shot she'd just taken.

The mayor winked at her, "Oh yeah The night of, we all got loaded. Let Vic's boys get good and hammered, and burst from the windows and rooftops where we'd been hiding. Fuckers never saw it coming. We didn't have to fire a shot. But we sure fucking did. It was a massacre. Once we'd mopped up, we strolled right into Vic's quarters in the State House, wrapped a rope around his neck... and we threw the dickhead off the balcony. And there I was, gun in hand, draped in Hancock's duds, looking at all the people of Goodneighbour assembled below."

"I had to say something," Another shot down, "That first time I said em', they didn't even feel like my words. 'Of the people, for the people!' was my inaugural address. Became Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbour that day. And from then on, I vowed I'd never stand by and watch. Not ever again. I just hope you get where I'm coming from. I ain't out to bring harm to anyone that didn't earn it. I like ya, Quinn. You're a sweet thing, and I wouldn't want you thinking I'm a monster."

Quinn smiled at him, shaking her head, "A monster? Never. Technically you killed a man for me- and that's suuuuuper romantic."

That had him let out a genuine laugh and she felt victorious, "Glad MacCready thawed ya, doll."

She slid the last of her shots over to tap against his, thoroughly feeling the effects of everything they drank, "A toast, to me. You're welcome, everyone."

Hancock howled and put his hand on top of her head, mussing up her hair.

After a few more drinks, the mayor had to throw Quinn's arm over his neck and help the giggling woman back up to her suite. Liquor didn't hit Hancock the way it hit others, but he was clearly feeling how much he'd drank, Quinn's inebriation making him laugh till he could hardly breath. 

Pushing the suite door open with his foot after fumbling with the handle, he helped Quinn over to the bed and eased her down on to it. Dogmeat hopped up and readily curled up at her feet.

"You take care of her, Dogmeat," Hancock scratched the dog's scruff, "Sleep tight, doll. Sorry in advance for the hangover."

"Byeeee, Joooohn Hancock," Quinn waved absent-mindedly at him, already sinking into sleep. She heard the ghoul chuckle and then the sound of the door closing behind him. 

There was nothingness for awhile, until Quinn was woken by the sound of the door closing. Grabbing the handgun from her bag next to the bed, she sat up quickly and aimed towards the sound in the darkness.

"Nice reflexes, short stuff," MacCready's voice came from the other side of the room and she grumbled, dropping back to lay on the bed.

"You scared me, jerk." Moving the safety back into place, she dropped the gun into her bag.

Her eyes adjusted to the dark and she watched MacCready toss his jacket onto the armchair, walking over and climbing into bed next to her, "Sorry, angel. I ran into Hancock- I figured you'd be out like a light after a night drinking with him."

Quinn let out a tired laugh, turning on her side to face him, "Mn.. yeah, I'm feeling it. Not as much as I figured I would, though. We'll see in the morning. What time is it?"

"It's.." MacCready squinted at his watch in the low light, "Four in the morning."

"Christ, where have you been?" She covered her mouth to yawn, stretching her tired body out. Her feet poked at Dogmeat and he jumped off the bed, plodding over to sleep under the coffee table.

"Long job," He brushed her hair away from her eyes, a moment of hesitation passing, "And uh.. well, I've been back for a bit. Just had to knock back some of that liquid courage."

He sounded flustered and tentative, Quinn feeling abruptly awake, "What do you mean?"

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, MacCready started, "I've been waiting for the right moment to talk to you and I suppose this is as good a time as any.."

"RJ, you're freaking me out," Quinn's stomach had dropped and he shook his head quickly, leaning in and kissing the corner of her mouth. 

"No, no. I'm sorry. It's nothing bad, I swear," MacCready scratched the back of his head, "After everything we've been through- especially you coming after me like the stubborn girl you are at Mass Pike and almost getting yourself killed not only by a Glowing One, but a fu-..fricken explosion to get the cure for Duncan.. well, I figured I owe you something. And I _always_ pay my debts."

Digging around in his pocket, MacCready handed her something, "Here, I wanted you to have this."

Quinn rolled the object in her hand, looking at it closely in the dark room. It was a little wooden soldier, the rough edges telling her it was hand made.

"I know a carved toy soldier is a strange reward for risking your life and putting up with me, but this one's special... it means a lot to me."

She looked back up at him, able to see how earnest his gaze was even in the darkness, "RJ.. thank you."

"You're welcome, just uhh, be sure you don't lose it," He chuckled softly, that uneasiness still hanging from his voice, "Lucy gave this me right after we met. I.. I uh, told her I was a soldier and she made it for me. Never could bring myself to tell her the truth... that I was just a hired killer."

MacCready sighed, "The soldier story was the best thing I could come up with. I didn't want to lose her because of what I was. She was a really good person, Quinn. No matter how bad things got, she was always there with a shoulder to lean on."

Quinn listened intently, biting back the ebbing jealousy she felt at the pit of her stomach. She knew it was a selfish feeling, the poor woman was dead, but she couldn't help it.

"It gave me... well, it gave me the courage I needed to press on again... to never give up. When she died, I thought that feeling was gone forever. Then... then I met _you_. You have your own problems on your back and here you've been helping me with mine every step of the way... lending me your shoulder like Lucy did."

MacCready was quiet like he'd lost his voice, taking a breath and going forward, "I need you to know how much you mean to me, Quinn. I was lost. Really, really lost. And then you fell out of that freezer and into my life and... just, nothing was the same after that. I know I can be the worst. I know that I've kept things from you because I'm a coward and... all that. I know I have so much more to tell you.. But you knew I was a merc from the start and it never bothered you. You found out I was a Gunner and you didn't flinch. That means everything to me. I've been just... me. RJ MacCready. And you've stuck by me though it all."

"Of course I stuck by you, dummy," Quinn sat up, admiring the toy soldier, "You're letting this all out like it's some sort of terrifying confession... as if you think I don't feel the same way."

He also sat up, sounding embarrassed, "I dunno... I'm terrible at this stuff."

"RJ," Quinn started with a giggle, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulder, "In case I haven't been clear- you mean a lot to me, too. You mean the most out of anything in this stupid, smelly garbage heap of a world."

MacCready was scratching at the back of his head again, seeing him bashful making Quinn's heart swell, "I felt like I was taking a chance kind of officially dumping all of my feelings on the table; you're too damn good for someone like me... but, it was definitely worth the risk."

She felt his stubble scratch her scalp as he kissed the top of her head, "For once in my life, everything is going right and I have nothing but you to thank for it. I don't think anyone in the world could ask for a greater gift than that. Thank you- you annoying, stubborn, beautiful, amazing girl. Stick around?"

Quinn shifted around and climbed on to his lap, kissing the toy soldier before reaching over and placing it on the dresser, "You couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

"Good," He brushed his lips against her chin, his hands resting on her thighs, "Happy Valentine's Day, short stuff.. that's what you say, right?"

Geez, he was adorable. 

Quinn leaned in and kissed him, pushing him back to lay on the bed. She giggled against his lips, glad she got some rest before he showed up; she was about to show him just how grateful she was for him.


	32. The Castle and The General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems so much longer than it is because it's dialogue heavy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is a bit late! Work has been madness! Plus it's been -45 C / -53 F in this Canadian winter hell so we've all been mostly non-functional lmao. I hope ya'll are staying warm!

"Preston?"

The Minuteman looked up from his perch atop the Castle, sitting with his legs hanging off the edge of the building, looking out at the water. He'd been pensive since the meeting they'd all had earlier, where veteran Minuteman Ronnie Shaw not to subtly reminded the group that they still needed a general.

"We need someone at the helm and I'm too damn old for the job," she'd said gruffly, smoking her fourth cigarette in a row as the group discussed where to go from there. She and Preston had managed to bring together around fifteen others to join the faction, some of the old guard and some completely new recruits. 

Ronnie savoured an inhale of smoke before speaking again, "Until that's settled, we can continue doing what we've been doing. Let's keep our asses in gear and get this place cleaned up."

A good portion of the day was used to clear out rubble, the grueling work spilling over into the early evening. Quinn was exhausted and her muscles were sore, but she was happy to see how much she'd gotten done. Being able to help Preston and his cause meant something to her; he had done a lot for her and she wanted to return the favour.

Preston retired up to the top of the Castle with a beer and Quinn was quick to follow her friend up to the top. She smiled at him and carefully lowered herself down, sitting on the ledge next to him, "How's it going?"

"Good. Real good," He nodded and offered Quinn a beer, "We've gotten a hell of a lot done, Quinn. It's hard to believe we have the Castle back."

She took the beer, feeling her heart swell, "I'm happy for you. You deserve this."

Preston shrugged, almost looking shy, "Ah, well. I wouldn't say that. The people of the Commonwealth deserve a win for the Minutemen. I'm just doing the work that needs to be done."

"Oh my God, Garvey!" Quinn punched him on his thigh hard enough to get a point across, " _You_ deserve this. I think you might be one of the last people in this garbage pile that has a genuinely good heart under all that ballistic weave. I'm convinced you're incapable of a selfish action."

He drank from his beer to avoid speaking and she sighed at him, "I'm serious, Preston."

"I know, Quinn."

"Then could you maybe act like it?" 

"I'll work on it," Preston laughed halfheartedly into the glass bottle, "Maybe you should give yourself credit, as well. You really are one of the good guys."

Quinn took a hearty drink of her beer, a playful smile on her face, "I don't know how to break this to you, but... I'm not a guy."

He choked and laughed, shaking his head, "Yeah, obviously. Just hush up and hear me out for a second."

Mimicking a zipper across her mouth, Quinn set her beer down next to herself in the dry grass. 

"Since we met- I hope you know I've really come to respect you. Both as a survivor, and as a friend. Most people- like you pointed- out are just out for themselves, one way or another, even the good ones. But you're different, Quinn. You really.. _care_ about other people. Even when it isn't convenient or safe."

Preston took his hat off and placed it on his lap, almost as if paying his respects, "I've seen you risk your life and your comfort to help people because it was the right thing to do. You didn't hesitate to help us at the museum and you'd only been part of the wasteland for, what, a week or so? You wandered for hours in the darkness because you wanted to help MacCready- which is absolutely insane, by the way."

"You put a gun to your head without knowing what it would lead to- in order to save me," He chuckled, shaking his head, "I'm sure there's more I could list. You showed up and I think I speak for a few of us by saying you really changed the game. I just wanted you to know that...well... that it matters. That you're making a difference."

Quinn felt like she was about to cry, the corners of her eyes stinging, "Oh, whatever. Just been following your lead, Preston."

She cleared her throat, "And, uhh.. speaking of leading."

Preston looked at her inquisitively and she smiled cautiously, "Why don't you become the general?"

"Oh," The word came out more like a breath than a word and he looked back out to the water, "I don't know about that. I'm not really the leading type.."

"Of course you are," Quinn didn't waste a second, tucking a leg under herself so she could turn towards him, "I hope you get that I'm never gonna stop hounding you until you grab yourself some semblance of self esteem, Preston Garvey."

"Good leaders don't get their people killed."

"Do you really believe that?" Quinn used an arm to sweep across the horizon ahead of them, "I'm pretty fucking sure the whole apocalyptic war disproves your theory. When there's war, people die. Plenty of people have died even under the lead of the very best. Death is out of a hell of a lot of people's area of influence."

The Minuteman didn't reply and she sighed, grabbing his bicep a shake with a silent demand that he look at her. When he complied, she spoke again, "You can't do this to yourself forever. Err... I guess you could. But you'd be doing a disservice to yourself and pretty much everyone else who could use someone like you- to lead them or to help them. I know you carry baggage because of what happened at Quincy and after. I'm so sorry for that, Preston. None of it was your fault, though. You were brave enough to try and lead all those people and I know it didn't go as planned, but you _saved lives_. You saved more lives than you would have if you turned tail and ran or gave up. Maybe you have this idea that you failed because people died, but doing that is making you refuse to see the good you've done."

Preston let out a soft "huh", but remained relatively quiet, his gaze moving back down to the hat on his lap.

"Please," Quinn held his forearm with both her hands, giving it a squeeze, "You don't have to become the general just because I think it would be good, but please at least forgive yourself for what happened. You did everything you could to protect the people of Quincy during and after the massacre. That's more than most anyone can say about themselves."

She shifted around to kneel next to him, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly from the side. Preston managed a faint smile, raising an arm to wrap around her and return the embrace. Quinn climbed to her feet carefully, deciding Preston likely needed some time to himself, "Think about everything you said about me and how I'm a good guy. Every single aspect of that speech describes you. Joining the Minutemen alone was an amazing thing, you know? That meant you were willing to protect the people from whatever they needed protecting from. You dedicated your life to helping others. "

Preston nodded and placed his hat back on his head, taking a long drink from his beer. Quinn looked at him for a long moment, feeling dejected at his unhappiness. She was about to head down the stairs when she called out to him, "Hey, Preston?"

He turned his head as much as he could to glance back at her, "Yeah?"

"People are gonna get hurt and people are gonna die- it'll happen whether or not you're leading. Nobody in this whole wasteland deserves to be the general as much as you do," Quinn shrugged, starting her way down, "Food for thought."

"Goodnight, Quinn." Preston called after her and she could hear the smile on his face.

It wasn't exactly what she would call late, but the long day of work had most everyone turned in early for the night. Quinn yawned and walked down a long stone corridor, feeling relieved she was moments away from sleep and seeing a certain mercenary. Stepping slowly to be as quiet as she could, Quinn rounded a corner into the little nook MacCready and her shared. It was a simple space made up of a bed, a shelf and a desk- identical to the other bunk areas they'd built over the last couple of days. She slipped her boots of and made her way to the bed where MacCready was sleeping, Dogmeat snoring at his feet.

Suddenly, MacCready's arm reached up and pulled her down on to the bed, throwing the thin blanket over her and nuzzling in close to her. She giggled at his breath against her neck, "Hey, you."

"Mn, hi.." He sounded exhausted, placing a kiss on her throat, "Haven't talked to you all day, short stuff. Missed you."

Quinn smiled and trailed her fingers along his jaw, "Missed you, too. Did you get a lot done today?"

MacCready nodded and moved his leg to hook over hers, "Yeah. Got most of the broken shi-... stuff out of the rooms. Wrangled up the new kids and dragged the Mirelurk carcasses out; they were starting to get rank."

"Gross," She wrinkled her nose at the thought, "I'm glad we missed that fight. Mirelurks are creepy."

He snorted, drumming his fingers along her side, "Alllllll those legssss..."

Wiggling, she laughed and gave him a jab in the shoulder, "Stop, you jerk!"

"Fine. But only cause I'm tired," He relaxed his hand on her hip, tilting his head up and kissing her under her chin, "Night, short stuff."

Tilting his head up towards her, she kissed him softly on the lips with a drowsy smile. And then she fell into a comfortable sleep.

Quinn woke up later than she'd planned the next day, the sun high in the sky. She was thankful for the Castle and how well it warded off the heat, its thick stone walls offering relief. She yawned and started her way out to the courtyard. Dogmeat perked up from his spot at the foot of the bed, following after her. 

_"This is Radio Freedom, The Voice of the Minutemen! It is now 12:30 pm. Stay safe out there."_

She smiled at the radio broadcast, again thinking about how proud she was of Preston. Hell, she was proud of the Minutemen as a whole. Knowing there were people out there who wanted to help others made her feel better about the ferocity of the Commonwealth. Quinn could say that she'd learned a lot and had adjusted better than she could have expected to living in a post-apocalyptic world- but it still disturbed her how uncaring and sometimes entirely unkind people had become. 

As she approached the broadcasting area, she noticed someone she's never seen before. His back was turned to her, standing in front of the desk and chatting with the Minuteman manning the radio. He was decked out in a navy blue overcoat and wearing a brown tricorn hat, the whole getup quite spiffy. MacCready was sitting on the edge of the desk, pulling himself from the conversation as he saw her walking over, "Afternoon, short stuff."

Quinn smiled brightly at him, and the expression quickly faltered into shock. The mystery man turned his attention to her, shooting her a sheepish smile. He faced her fully and put his arms out, like he were saying "ta-da".

It was Preston.

She rushed over to him in excitement, Dogmeat barking behind her, "Preston, did you..?"

The Minuteman nodded, his smile growing into a grin, "I guess I'm the general now."

He did it. He actually did it. 

Quinn shrieked, launching herself at Preston and all but jumping on to him. He engulfed her in a bear hug, lifting her from the ground and she kicked her legs; she was vibrating with excitement, "Holy shit! Congratulations!"

MacCready was chuckling from his spot at the desk, looking at Quinn over Preston's shoulder with a cigarette pressed between a smile, "Preston Garvey, general of the Commonwealth Minutemen. Gotta say- it's got a ring to it."

Preston set Quinn back down on her feet, removing his hat and rubbing at the back of his head, "Thank you, guys. Really."

She was smiling ear to ear, smoothing out the collar of his overcoat, "So fancy. You look great, Preston. The general look suits you."

The Minuteman chuckled, patting Quinn on the cheek gently. His go-to sign of affection was always the cheek pat, "I hope I can act the part as great as presumably I look."

"You're gonna do great- oh, hold on a sec!" Quinn turned and ran off, pulling her bag out from under the bed and digging around it for her camera. She smiled at the object in her hand, returning to the courtyard, "Picture? Pretty please?"

"Oh boy," Preston laughed uncomfortably and she was certain there was a blush on his dark skin. She couldn't understand for the life of her why he had so little confidence. He was kind, strong and unarguably handsome.

"Come on, Garvey!" Quinn raised the camera to her eye, waiting on him to decide what to do. He jutted out a thumbs up towards her, the most endearing and awkward smile on his face. The flash went off and she laughed, pulling the photo from the device.

"So, what's the first order of business, _general_?" Quinn grinned.

"Well," He looked over to MacCready and the Minuteman manning the desk, "We were discussing how the best way to regain the people's support is to go back to doing what we do best: helping them out with their problems. Once we're more organized and trained, I'd like to start sending troops out to check on settlements and see if they need any help. With the radio station up, I think it'll only be a matter of time before people are coming to us. We can prove to the Commonwealth that we're back."

Preston sounded the closest thing to confident she'd ever heard from him and she clapped her hands together in excitement, "That sounds great."

An idea dawned on her and she tugged the radio from her belt. Preston looked interested and MacCready, to her amusement, was already scowling. She laughed at the mercenary and poked out her tongue before turning around and wandering away with the transmission button pressed down, "Paladin Danse?"

There was silence and then the buzz of a live channel, "This is Paladin Danse. Go ahead, Miss Hardin."

"I have a request for you, if that's okay."

"Affirmative. How can I assist you?"

"I was wondering if Preston Garvey could get a radio, as well?"

"May I ask why?"

Quinn chuckled, Danse's formal stiffness unreasonably entertaining to her, "He's become the general of the Minutemen. Figured it would be good if the three of us could maintain contact."

"Outstanding. Garvey will make an excellent leader."

"Tell me about it."

"As the last of his faction, I'd have to say he has survival skills above most. And his marksmanship is exceptional."

Quinn pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and giggled, Danse's inability to read her sarcasm adding itself to the list of thing she found funny and odd about him. Clearing her throat, she pressed the button, "Agreed. What do you say?"

"Your request is a go. I'll arrive shortly via vertibird."

"Wait, I haven't told you where we are."

"I had a tracking chip installed into the radio."

Of course he did.

She shook her head, turning the radio over in her hand and inspecting it, "Well, alright. I'll see you soon."

"Roger that. Ad Victoriam."

MacCready was still looking sour when she returned and she winked at him before speaking to Preston, "I asked Danse to drop you off a radio so we can stay in touch easier."

"Well, damn. Thanks, Quinn."

"Oh great, a visit from the talking can," MacCready pushed off the desk and both Quinn and Preston glanced over at him, "What? The guy's a tool."

Quinn moved over to MacCready and pecked him on the cheek, then heading off to await Danse on the upper level of the Castle. Once she got to the top of the steps, she called down to the mercenary, "Don't worry! He's only my _second_ favourite boyfriend!

She was pleased when she heard Preston's guffaw of laughter from where she stood. 

Danse wasn't kidding when he said he'd be there shortly, the vertibird landing with impressive grace. Quinn's vibrant hair was carried wildly by the powerful blades, dirt and dead grass kicked up and whirling.

"Hey, Paladin," Quinn shook her hair out when the air around them calmed, giving him a friendly smile.

He climbed out of the vertibird in his telltale power armour, his helmet left behind somewhere in the vehicle. Brushing a huge metal hand back over his short hair, he nodded at her professionally, "Miss Hardin."

Danse towered over her and she couldn't help but laugh, overemphasizing a head tilt back to look up at him, "Thanks for coming by. I appreciate it."

There was the slightest crack in the Paladin's stone expression as he looked down at her smiling face, his eyes studying her curiously, "No thanks necessary. I requested that one of our tech men adjust the radio channels. You can still contact me directly on channel three. Otherwise, I recommend you and the general keep your radios on channel four; that's the open channel for the three of us to contact one another. Is that satisfactory?"

She took the radio he handed to her and clipped it to her belt next to the other, "Totally. Thank you so much. It'll ease my mind a ton being able to reach Preston. Having to wait on letters to see if he's okay is stressful as hell."

"You worry a lot about Garvey?" Danse sounded genuinely curious.

Quinn shrugged, "Well, yeah. Of course I do. Things out here are... a lot rougher than I remember from before. It feels like any time I see someone now that.. it could easily be the last, I guess."

He nodded, "I see. You've dealt with a steep learning curve, I assume?"

"You don't know the half of it," She chuckled, trying to maintain her good humour, although below that she felt a pang of sadness, "I don't remember my old life. You know, like who I was, who my family was, what I did for a living... none of it. But I do remember the world I came from and it was uhhhh, yeah, it was nothing like this."

Danse was still observing her and Quinn was certain there'd be question marks floating above his head if he were a cartoon character, "Strange. Very strange. Although, Vault-Tec is known for doing all kinds of studies in their vaults with the dwellers- so I suppose it's not entirely surprising. The dot I can't connect is the Institutes interest in you.."

"I'm not a synth, please don't even start," Quinn grumbled.

To her shock, Danse let loose a short chuckle and raised his hands up, "I wasn't getting to that. I apologize for the way I acted previously, and for accusing you of being a synth. Unfortunately, we can never be too careful."

She narrowed her eyes a little, but decided she'd accept the apology and pick a fight about the rest of it some other time. Part of her wasn't ready to peel back the layers of the Brotherhood and finding out what they were really about; everyone elses' opinion of them made her uneasy. So far, Danse was a helpful ally and she could cross troublesome roads when and if they got there, "Alright, Paladin. I accept your apology."

"Outstanding," Danse nodded again and quickly moved on to the next topic, "I've been thinking about your ordeal. If we want to destroy the Institute, we're going to have to find a way in. According to any research we've done, the Institute has no physical way in or out. The blue lights are their only doorways."

Quinn frowned, chewing on her bottom lip in thought, "No physical way in.. Do you know how the lights work?"

Danse shook his head, a metal finger resting on the dimple on his chin obscured by his dark stubble, "We don't. Not yet, anyways. We have a whole team dedicated to that research. I believe we'll have answers soon enough."

A shudder ran down her spine and thoughts of the Institute came out of the woodwork to weigh on her mind. She kept herself as busy as she could, but all roads lead back to thinking about the mysterious group and just how much they scared her. It didn't matter how hard she tried because every quiet moment had her thinking about them. Part of her was always expecting a flash of blue to appear since the showdown on the rooftop. They almost had her and that cranked up how stressed she felt about the whole situation. It felt much more real.

She tried to smile, knowing it probably came off entirely insincere, "I hope so."

There was a lul between them, the silence clearly uncomfortable. Danse piped up, taking a moment to find his voice- it was glaring he wasn't used to dealing with emotions, "How has progress been here?"

Quinn was grateful he changed the topic, looking down into the courtyard where Preston continued to hang out at the broadcasting area. He looked to be greeting Minutemen who were coming up to him with congratulations for his new role. The warmth in her chest helped fill the void thinking about the Institute left, "It's been good. Everyone's been spending most of the days moving out all the wreckage and the Mirelurks."

"Good to hear," Danse cleared his throat and straightened up, "I should get back to the Prydwen."

"Yeah, of course!" Quinn smiled, crushing down the negative feelings that they'd stirred up, "Thanks again for the radio. I appreciate it. I know Preston will, too."

The Paladin gave her another one of his curt nods, turning to head back to the vertibird. The pilot took that as his cue, the craft's blades beginning to spin.

"Oh- Paladin? One more thing?"

Danse turned back to face her and she dug a letter out from her back pocket, "If you're heading around Diamond City, do you think you could drop this off with the security desk? I've been meaning to update a friend of mine on how things have been going.. But I think I might be here for the next few days and I have no clue when or if a caravan will come by."

She was prepared for Danse to deny her request, but he took the letter from her hand, "Simple enough. Can do, Miss Hardin."

"Thank you," Quinn stepped back a few paces to escape the wind that continued to pick up in speed, "Take care out there, Paladin."

Danse climbed into the vertibird, his closed fist moving up to his chest, "Same to you, Miss Hardin. Ad Victoriam."

The vertibird lifted off the ground and Quinn shouted up at the Paladin over the engine, "I still don't know what that means!"

The vehicle was too high up for her to see his expression clearly, so although she wasn't positive, Quinn would have bet a lot of caps that Danse laughed in response.


	33. Hunter/Hunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been tough for me to write the last couple chapters for some reason! I've had a little writers block. I wound up skipping ahead and writing a few of the next chapters because I didn't have inspiration at the time for the last two chapters. This means my updates for the next week and some will be right on time!
> 
> Thanks again for reading! Your kudos and comments are amazing.

"Mnn, RJ.." Quinn tilted her head up and gave him more access to her neck, his lips grazing her heated skin, "Someone might come down here."

The sound of his chuckle against her throat sent a shiver down her spine and she grasped handfuls of his shirt under his open duster. Moments earlier, MacCready had pulled her into one of the storage areas of the Castle and pressed her up against the cool stone wall. His lips on her own distracted her from whatever the hell it had been she was doing, her heart racing from his advances.

"That just means.." MacCready's voice trailed as agonizingly slow as his hands did, his fingers teasing the skin just over the line of her jeans, "We'll have to be quiet, right?"

"Uh huh," She nodded, her voice having troubles making its way out of her throat. The belt around her waist loosened and she twisted her hips impatiently to assist in the removal of her pants. He knelt down and tugged her runners off, making sure the jeans and her panties were quick to follow them.

Launching himself back up, MacCready took her face into his hands. He nipped at her bottom lip, murmuring, "We've gotta hit the road today, and there's no f-.. freaking way I'm waiting until we're back to..."

"To what?" Quinn opened his belt and tugged him against her by the waist of his pants. He groaned as the bulge in his pants was wedged between them, the sound building into a growl. Pushing up on to the tips of her toes, she smiled against his ear, "To do what?"

MacCready shoved down his boxers and grabbed under her knee with a firm grasp. Raising her leg up, he slid his hand down along his length and filled her with one deep thrust. Quinn pressed her hand to her mouth to silence the sharp gasp she let loose and he smirked, "To do _that_."

He pressed her lifted thigh against the wall and took no time in starting a hurried pace, Quinn leaning her head back against the wall and moaning into her hand. MacCready had his mouth against her shoulder to mute himself, his hips snapping against hers.

"How the... fuck, oh my God. How a-.. am I supposed to.. oh, stay quiet?" She whimpered into her palm, having a hell of a time keeping her voice down; his motions were unrelenting. MacCready edged closer to her and put his hand to the wall, her leg now hanging over the bend of his elbow. Frantically, she cupped his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his- the kiss all tongue and teeth. The pressure inside of her was building and she could feel sweat beading on her skin.

MacCready pinned her to the wall and lifted her other leg up, Quinn clumsily crossing her feet at the ankles behind his back. He was plunging into her hard enough that she knew she'd be feeling it later and there was something incredible in how it almost hurt. She was sobbing whines into their messy liplock, the air pushed out of her with his every thrust. Anchoring her arm around MacCready's neck, she used a shaking hand to massage her clit. It was becoming nearly impossible for her to keep herself quiet and it felt so goddamn good that part of her didn't care. The edge was close.

Chuckling, the sound low and rough, MacCready moved his arm out from under her leg and covered her mouth with his hand. Quinn kept her legs tied around his waist, kissing his palm between her moans. And then she was saying his name over and over as she toppled over that precarious edge into her climax, her back arching sharply. She could hear MacCready's breath hitch in his throat and he fucked her harder against the wall, his forehead resting on his hand over her mouth. With a few more plunges into her, he withdrew from her and spilled against the cool stone. 

MacCready lowered Quinn back down on shaking legs and they tried to catch their breath in silence. She broke into a fit of giggles while redressing her lower half and he leaned in and kissed her on her smiling mouth, his lips curled upwards, too. What they'd just done was fervent and heated, yet now all she felt was.. bubbly?

"Mmm.." Quinn had her hand against the side of his face, her lips still brushing his as she spoke, "RJ?"

He kissed her softly, "Yeah?"

There it was again. That need to say things she held deep within her chest. Quinn blinked up at MacCready and searched than handsome face of his. Looking into his eyes made it easy for her to understand why she felt lighter with him- usually she felt a little silly for how giddy the mercenary made her. Life in the Commonwealth was hard and he helped her forget that without even trying. Hearing him making a sarcastic comment with that damn grin on his face was enough to make her stomach flutter.

"Well.." Quinn tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, both her mind and her heart racing. She opened her mouth to speak, but she giggled instead, "Your fly is open."

As MacCready looked down, she laughed and slipped out from between him and the wall. He chuckled and adjusted himself, quick to catch up with her. He put an arm over her shoulders and she smiled up at him.

Quinn knew she'd tell him one day. Just.. maybe not after getting nailed to a wall. Reaching up, she grasped the hand that hung from her shoulder and they started the walk back to the courtyard.

They spent a few hours of the uncharacteristically overcast day to drop in at the Old North Church. Knowing what she knew about the Institute and their lack of tangible entrances and exists convinced her that having a chat with the Railroad may be wise. If both them and the Brotherhood were looking for a way to solve the door problem, maybe they could reach something sooner. The Railroad had to have someone savvy with tech if they were rewriting synths, right?

"Fire cracker! Welcome back," Deacon was awaiting them where Desdemona and her crew had during their first conversation, wearing a padded blue jacket, heavily patched green pants and missing his Sturges hair.

Quinn glanced back at MacCready and gave him a look sharp enough to cut, "Be. Nice. _MacCready._ "

With her attention back to Deacon, she grinned, "Ha! So you _are_ bald. I knew it!"

He ran his hands over his smooth head and laughed, the twinkle in his eye somehow visible behind his dark sunglasses, "Hey, now. My hair's at the cleaners. How can I help ya?"

Quinn opened her mouth to speak, but Deacon interrupted her, "Actually, hold that thought. Why don't you both come on down to the HQ?"

MacCready piped up, his sarcasm dripping, "Oh, I've been graced with a pass in?"

A small hand came up and thwapped him on his chest and he snorted down at Quinn, "What?"

"It'll piss Des' right off," Deacon, unlike Desdemona, was amused by the mercenary, "And sometimes my very life blood comes from pissing her off, ya know? I make my own fun."

That actually got a smirk out of MacCready and the three of them set off down to the underground headquarters. 

"Deacon, what's the mercenary doing down here?" Desdemona demanded, standing up from the desk she sat at.

"The mercenary has a name," Quinn snapped at the woman and Deacon was trying his hardest to quell a grin. Sensing her ire, Dogmeat barked twice.

The leader of the Railroad glared at her and Deacon put a hand up, still trying to keep his face straight, "Okay, okay. Come on, let's all be nice. Des', both of these people are willing to face the _Institute_. Doesn't that count for something?"

Desdemona grumbled, shoving a cigarette into her mouth and falling silent. Quinn huffed in annoyance and MacCready was more amused than ever. She could hear him chuckling under his breath, his arms crossed over his chest. They glanced at one another and he winked.

She couldn't help but smile, taking a moment to shake herself back into the situation at hand, "Look- we've heard some things about the Institute and, considering you're on our side, I thought it would make sense to come discuss them." 

Desdemona was inhaling deeply, a cloud of smoke trailing from her mouth as she spoke, "Oh?"

"The Institute doesn't have any entrances or exits- not physical ones, anyways. The way they zap all over hell is the only way they get in and out."

"Huh," Desdemona was nodding, looking intrigued, "Yes, we've been aware of their teleportation capabilities- but we didn't know there weren't any doorways into the Institute. That does make a hell of a lot of sense, though."

An unfamiliar voice surfaced and Quinn looked over at a tall, lean man with some sort of contraption sitting on his head. She could see a magnifying glass and some sort of eye pieces, "Mind if I pipe up?"

Quinn couldn't pinpoint what it was, but there was something immediately endearing about the man. He seemed eccentric and interesting like Deacon and a far cry from a certain Railroad leader.

Snuffing her cigarette, Desdemona motioned a hand towards him, "Yes, Tom. What is it?"

Tom rubbed his hands together, the motion somewhat nervous, "The teleportation- I've looked into it myself before. Imagine what we could do harnessing the power of teleportation! That would be wild. Anyways. What was I saying? Oh, yeah. I've looked into it. I've only heard of and seen Coursers and other mechanical synths teleport, never humans.. but- as we know, Coursers are third gens which makes them about as human as any of us, just better. They're like us but with their synth components. That means humans can likely teleport, too... there must be some sort of piece, a mechanical part maybe that they use to relay around? Hmm. Wouldn't that be something?"

Quinn was immediately overwhelmed. The information wasn't overly complicated- it was just that Tom spoke at a rapid fire pace, his words only getting quicker and quicker the longer he spoke. By the end it sounded as if he were more talking to himself than any of them.

Deacon and Desdemona were clearly accustomed to his mannerisms, listening to him intently and nodding along. MacCready looked astounded, bordering on confused. 

A mechanical part could be the key to getting into the Institute? The theory made sense from what little Quinn knew about synths. Unless she was mistaken, magic wasn't something that had become a thing while she was frozen, "So, I need to dig around in an Institute synth for.. something?"

Tom was nodding, scratching at his chin in thought, "It's probably best to search a Courser. We've seen and documented Coursers coming and going, but I've never heard of the gen ones and twos doing so. Might be a one way trip for the poor bastards. I could be wrong, it's my best guess."

MacCready sighed, the sound laced in frustration, "What I'm hearing here is that you're telling us that we need to _kill_ a Courser? Aren't they the closest fu-frickin' thing to indestructible around the Commonwealth? Not only that, after we're supposed to kill it, we need to dig around in it for a part we don't know exists?"

The Railroad agents all exchanged glances and Tom nodded, either not catching or ignoring MacCready's indignation, "Yeah, that's about it."

Desdemona shrugged and Deacon looked at Quinn with a grin, "Sounds like a party."

"You expect me to take her? The girl who needs to climb on things to reach top shelves to take out a Courser? Are you insane?" MacCready smacked the hand Quinn shot up to hit him with, "Are you _trying_ to get her killed?"

Deacon's expression faltered and he inhaled through his teeth, "Well, shit. You had to ruin the fun so soon."

"We need a way in and this is the only lead. There isn't another option. Besides, the first Courser I dealt with wasn't allowed to kill me- they want me alive. I'm the best option to even attempt this," Quinn sighed, preparing herself with another argument with MacCready.

"That's way too risky. If you're wrong, if the thing goes all Broken Mask, you could get taken out by it- or just taken."

"Broken Mask..? Ugh, whatever. It doesn't matter. I'm doing it, okay? What else am I supposed to do? Sit and wait for the Institute to come for me again like they did a couple weeks ago? I want to be able to get in there and beat them to the punch. I don't want to run forever," She was obviously angry, but her voice was wavering and she felt like she was going to cry.

"Hold on," Deacon interjected, his voice concerned, "They came for you again?"

"Yeah," Quinn nodded, sighing heavily, "Almost succeeded. Wait."

She looked over at Tom, "One almost took me, but it wasn't a Courser. It was a.. I don't know. It looked kind of rough. More robot than human."

Tom was taken aback, his lips pressing together as he thought, "Very interesting.. That's unheard of. I mean. From what I know."

Deacon was looking at Quinn, musing, "I'm beginning to think that "unheard of" is fire cracker's specialty."

She smiled a little at that, her shoulders bobbing in a small shrug, "What can I say?"

MacCready was in the middle of lighting a cigarette, his lighter snapping shut with a flick of his wrist, "Does this mean we can rip apart a standard Institute synth, instead?"

Quinn looked around at everyone, her eyes falling on Desdemona. The woman was looking at her intently from behind a wisp of smoke. She wore an expression Quinn saw frequently: interest. Being the girl from the past on the run from the big bad boogeyman had her used to it.

"I don't know, man. I'm sorry. I wish I had concrete answers," Tom sounded disappointed and Quinn looked away from Desdemona to pay attention to him.

"It's okay. You don't have to be sorry, Tom," The warmth in the smile she gave him made the quartermaster grin awkwardly, suddenly occupied with picking at a buckle on his overalls, "You're giving me way more info that I had before. I've been dealing with all of this pretty much blind. I appreciate it."

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," Tom nodded and cleared his throat, "You're welcome."

Finally, Desdemona spoke up, "It seems there's a fork in the road. A Courser is far from a sure-fire option, though it may be more reliable than having to take apart a lower gen synth for this component. The gen ones and twos are practically all machine- deciphering the usable part could take some time and still proof fruitless."

"But, of course, the decision is all up to you, fire cracker," Deacon flashed her a grin, the act somehow reassuring to her, "Whatever you decide, I'll back you two up."

"Deacon," Desdemona spoke his name as a warning.

He only glanced at her, waving his hand at her casually, "I don't want to hear a thing, Des'. You and I both know her mission is equally as beneficial to us. It ain't right to expect her to shoulder all the risks."

The woman sighed, grumbling briefly as she took out yet another cigarette, "Point taken."

"Besides," Deacon's lips crept up into an impish grin, "She's way too cute to leave hanging."

"For the love of.." Desdemona's voice trailed and she rolled her eyes, pushing away from the desk and exiting the conversation. Tom laughed at her reaction and turned his attention back to the terminal he'd been using.

MacCready groaned, although it was probably quiet enough for only Quinn to hear and he saved face with a comment, "You're telling me."

Knowing she was blushing at the attention, she couldn't help but giggle, "Yeah, yeah. You're not too shabby, either, Deacon."

Deacon looked at MacCready and he clicked his tongue, directing finger guns towards her, " _You're telling me._ "

Quinn almost choked on her laughter, pressing her lips together tightly. MacCready smirked and shrugged, his tone more geared to friendly banter than she expected, "Hey, man. She's coming with me. I'm not worried."

"You should be. The whole changing identity thing is a real hit with the ladies."

"Christ, you two. I'm standing right here," Quinn shook her head, trying her best not to feel embarrassed.

The two men chuckled and Deacon took a moment to recompose himself, "Anyways. What are you thinking?"

Quinn wished she had an answer for him. The Courser was the best option, but the most dangerous. An older gen synth would be a walk in the park in comparison- at least to kill. The rest was a toss up. Drumming her lower lip with her fingers, she finally shrugged, "I don't know. Can I think on it?"

"That's up to you- entirely," Deacon shifted to sit on the edge of a desk, "You don't have to do this, at all, if you didn't want to." 

"If I ever want to live without the Institute looming over me... I think I do."

Deacon nodded, his expression sympathetic, "I suppose you're right."

Looking between the two men, she smiled tiredly, "I'm gonna run upstairs and get a little air. Mull over our options."

MacCready exhaled smoke, blowing it out of his face to look at her, "Want company, short stuff?"

"Nah, I'm okay. I won't be long," Quinn smiled at the two of them and turned around to head on her way, Dogmeat trotting behind her faithfully.

It had started to rain while they were down in the headquarters, the drops coming down steadily. The air clung to her, the rain resulting in the humidity spiking dramatically. Dogmeat whined at her feet and she laughed down at the pouting hound, "Sorry, buddy. Go back in and wait for me, okay?"

The dog barked in acknowledgment and Quinn opened the door for him, watching him wander back inside. He walked in a slow circle and settled down on the floor on the other side of the door and she smiled at him before pushing it closed again. 

Sighing to herself, Quinn leaned up against the brick wall of the church. Making headway in her fight against the Institute was exactly what she wanted and it confused her how hesitant she was feeling. The stakes were escalating with every step forward she took. It had to be done, though. If not just for her own safety, then for the sake of the Commonwealth as a whole. She didn't have a ton of experience with the Institute, but she did know that they were a menace and everyone would be better off without them one way or another. 

Quinn shivered, goosebumps raising all over her skin. Before she could react, she was blinded by vivid blue light and the all-too-familiar sound of electric sparks filled her ears. When she lowered her hands from her eyes, she looked across the walkway from where she stood. A man with slicked back dark hair was staring back at her, his outfit telling her exactly what he was. A Courser.

"Quinn Lee Hardin," The man spoke without a sprinkle of emotion, "My operation parameters are to acquire you for delivery to the Institute."

It didn't escape Quinn that the Courser made no mention of her being unharmed this time. She was ready to run back into the church and her gut stopped her dead. Leading a Courser right down into the central hub of the Railroad could lead to doom for the faction. Even if they defeated the Courser- what if the Institute could see what he saw?

"Fuck," Quinn murmured, Dogmeat barking viciously and clawing at the door from the inside of the building. 

"Why does the Institute want me?" She called across to the synthetic man, willing her voice to stay even.

"That information is classified."

"Of course it is," Quinn exhaled harshly and put her hand on the holstered handgun attached to her thigh, "What if I don't want to go? What if I fight back?"

The Courser was adjusting the leather gloves he wore, "Previous parameters stated the harm of Quinn Lee Hardin would result in mission failure. Current parameters state that harm is acceptable should force be necessary. The death of Quinn Lee Hardin will result in mission failure."

Well, wasn't that reassuring.

Quinn pushed away from the wall and bolted to the right, drawing her weapon. She had no idea what she was doing. All she knew was that she couldn't run down to the headquarters for help. 

She was alone.

It didn't take more than a couple seconds for the Courser to catch up to her, his huge hand wrapping around her wrist. Instinctively, she let out a scream and the man pulled her harshly towards himself. She collided with his chest and she pressed the muzzle of her handgun to his chest and pulled the trigger twice. He barely reacted, but his grasp loosened on her enough that she could rip her arm away from him. She raised the gun again and was quickly, and painfully, toppled to the ground from a swift punch to her stomach. The air left her body and she lost grip on her weapon.

The radio. Tracking chip.

Staying curled on the wet walkway, Quinn put a shaking hand on the radio clipped to her belt. She held down the transmit button and yelled, "Danse! Courser! Please help! Ple-" Quinn shrieked as the Courser pulled her back up to her feet forcefully by her shoulders, her hand slipping from the radio. His grip was brutal and her face twisted in pain.

"If you continue to resist and cause me trouble, I'll need to use more force," His words were terrifying, though his voice remained the same flat tone. He squeezed her shoulders harder and she whimpered, her hands clawing at his leather clad arms. The panic was rising to a point where she was getting desperate, her hands curling into fists and hitting him in the face the best she could with her pinched shoulders.

Danse's voice crackled through the radio and he sounded alert and concerned, "Copy that. Standby on location, I repeat, standby on location!"

"You have been warned," The man let go of her shoulders only to strike her across the face with an open palm. Quinn was nearly knocked off her feet, stumbling in the direction of the slap. Her ear was ringing and she started to sob- the outburst involuntary. She was scared, she was in pain and a voice in her head was telling herself she was never going to see anyone again. 

A scream would have left her throat if it could, but the Courser's hand wrapping around her throat cut the sound off at its source. Her hands tried to pry his fingers away from her, the use of all her strength doing nothing. The toes of her boots scraped at the cement and the man lifted her from the ground by her neck.

No. No.

Quinn kicked frantically, every inch of her body screaming for a gulp of air. Pulling her right knee up as far as she could, she felt around blindly and wrapped her fingers around the handle of the knife she kept tucked in her boot. As hard as she could muster, she jammed the knife into the crook of the Courser's neck, the blade sliding in to the hilt. She figured she hit something of importance because his eyes twitched strangely, but his hand didn't relent.

The edges of her vision started to give out and she felt the tears streaming down her cheeks along with the rain. Her limbs were going numb, though she could feel the hairs on her arms stand up. Blue light was manifesting. Looking over the Courser's shoulder, she saw the door of the church burst open and a handful of people spilled out. Dogmeat, MacCready, Deacon, the white haired woman wielding the mini gun and someone she wasn't sure she recognized. Maybe she did. Her mind was struggling through the lack of oxygen.

Then the sound of gunfire. A lot of it.

"Ughn.." Quinn parted her lips and silently cried for air. The world was growing darker.

The blue light faded and Quinn was dropped from the Courser's iron grasp. Her feet hit the ground and her knees gave out from under her. She sprawled out on the ground and although the sweetness of air slowly filled her lungs beyond her swollen throat, she faded into unconsciousness.

The last thing she saw was her friends with their weapons drawn and the Courser turned towards them- ready to fight.


	34. Love Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who wants some ANGSTTTT?

MacCready burst outside of the Old North Church with his heart in his throat. They'd heard Dogmeat barking outside of the headquarters and when he saw the hound without Quinn he knew something was _very_ wrong. He had a bad feeling about what was going on outside and he took the sniper rifle from his back and readied it. 

If he'd thought his heart couldn't go any faster, he was wrong. 

There was a man dressed in black leather standing down the path, the details lost with his back turned. But what he _could_ distinguish terrified him. Quinn's eyes were looking at him from over the man's shoulder- brimming with tears and struggling to stay open because he had his hand locked around her dainty throat.

"Stop him! Now!" MacCready shouted and dropped down to a knee, finger pulling the trigger. Blue light was dancing around them and there was no fucking way he was letting him take her. Gunfire erupted around him and his deft hands continued aiming, firing and reloading. It didn't feel like he could will his hands to move fast enough.

The man was a Courser. He had to have been. There was no other explanation for how many bullets he was taking. He dropped Quinn and it took everything in MacCready's power not to make a run for her. She fell to the cement, her head lolling to the side as she slipped out of consciousness.

"Spread out!" Deacon shouted to the others, a combat shotgun in his hands, "Don't let up!"

He needed to make sure she was okay. He needed her to be okay.

The leather the synth wore was riddled with bullet holes. He was so unbothered by something that would kill just about anyone and anything and it disturbed MacCready. How could even a synthetic person withstand this much?

"Fu-!" MacCready had no idea what happened, feeling as if he'd lost a chunk of time. The Courser was suddenly on him and the gunfire around him had ceased. He felt his knees waver under him as a closed fist hit him in the stomach. Nausea swept over him and he stumbled backwards. He reached for his handgun in its holster, but the Courser grabbed him by his neck and his motions stopped instantly. Why couldn't he move? He couldn't breathe and the world around him felt hazy. The details beyond the Courser were bleeding together.

"No!" Quinn screamed from behind the man, standing on weak legs. She charged at him and ripped out the knife he had embedded into his neck. She closed both hands over the hilt and started stabbing at the Courser's back with all her might. He remained stone-faced and she tried her damndest to wedge herself between them, her small hands pulling at the wrist cutting of MacCready's air supply.

Turning his attention to Quinn, the Courser used his free hand to grab her by her chin, his fingers pressing into her soft skin. She wasn't letting up, readying the knife in her hand for another attack. The pressure he used on her increased and he was turning her head to face MacCready. He could tell she was struggling against the force, her head vibrating.

"Quinn," The mercenary spoke her name, the word coming out strangled from his compressed throat.

Her eyes met his and then the Courser's wrist jerked. The motion was sudden and entwined with a sickening snap. Quinn squeaked and then her frightened features went slack.

MacCready's blood ran ice cold. The Courser relented and the mercenary stumbled back while Quinn crumpled to the ground heavily. Dropping to his knees, he quickly forgot the synth was even there, his hands reaching for the girl. He turned her over and he couldn't react in any other way than to wail in horror as he pulled her up to him and her head hung at an unnatural angle.

He killed her. He _killed_ her.

He had a shaking hand hovering over her face and he let out a mournful groan, "No.. no. Quinn, please. No."

Holding on to Quinn's lifeless body, MacCready pressed his face against her neck and sobbed. He held her tightly to his body as if trying to will her into himself, his lips kissing her under her ear, "Don't go. You can't fucking go."

"Critical mission failure," The Courser spoke to no one, still standing above him. MacCready paid no mind to the synthetic man, his mind swirling into chaos. 

This couldn't be happening. No. Quinn couldn't die. That's not how this was supposed to happen.

The deafening crack of electricity interrupted his thoughts and then he was blinded by blue light. When the light faded, MacCready was looking up at a ceiling. His chest was heaving with laboured breaths, sweat running down his temple.

"Mn.." A sound to his right pulled him from his fright and he turned his head to see Quinn fast asleep next to him. She was curled towards him and her features were soft and relaxed as she slept soundly. The bruise on the side of her face from the Courser attack the day prior was dark and peeking out from her tussled hair. Her neck was bruised, too, the contusion brutal and shaped like a hand.

A nightmare. Just a nightmare.

"What the hell.." He muttered to himself, sitting up and sighing. MacCready knew it wasn't real, but the weight of it was sitting firm on his shoulders. He watched Quinn die and he couldn't stop it. Just like..

The mercenary shook his head and shut down the thought. He climbed out of bed quietly and pulled his boots on, grabbing his duster from the coat rack on his way out the door. It was relatively early and the settlement was quiet with the sun still low in the sky.

MacCready sighed again, allowing himself to break his oath with nobody around, "Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_."

He couldn't shake the nightmare from his bones nor the sound of Quinn's final yelp. It was echoing in his head. MacCready placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with ever so slightly shaking hands, filling his lungs with the soothing smoke.

Sitting on the short rock wall that lined the shore of the river, MacCready smoked in silence and watched the sky brighten. Something brushed his leg and he looked down to see Dogmeat making himself comfortable, looking up at him with those big brown eyes. The dog had a way of knowing when he was needed. MacCready reached down and rubbed at the dog's fur mindlessly for awhile, wishing the act was as comforting as it usually was.

They'd, very narrowly, defeated the Courser with zero causalities and relatively minor injuries. Quinn was banged up, but she was going to be just fine. It was a win. Why was he so flipped out?

"Snap the hell out of it," He scolded himself, flicking his spent cigarette into the water. The ember hissed and disappeared with the lazy current, "Snap the fuck out of it. She's fine."

But for how much longer, he wondered. He'd been carrying the weight of thinking that caring for people was a curse. Lucy, Duncan suffered because of him- the only two people he fully and completely cared for. Well, at least back then...

MacCready was thankful nobody but the hound were there to see his face go red, the discomfort in his stomach shifting. The anxiousness he felt faded to be replaced by what he could only describe as butterflies. He hadn't felt them since he was eighteen- that is until he met Quinn. After she showed up, those butterflies were a common sort. 

Digging into the inner breast pocket of his duster, he pulled out the handful of Polaroids he had tucked away, a small smile playing his lips. He'd made it a habit to snag photos of Quinn and keep them for himself; he liked having them close to him. It gave him some kind of relief. MacCready also made it a habit to ignore what a red flag that was for how lost he was to the redhead. 

"You've been lost for awhile, you idiot," His words were harsh, but he knew he was still smiling while rifling through the photos he was holding. It was hard for him to pick a favourite of the bunch, all of them depicting her and that goddamn smile. He looked down at the one she demanded be taken in Boston Common- her arms thrown around the tour guide protectron. It would never ceased to amaze him how big her heart was. Quinn had a soft spot for anything and everything. The protectron had no thoughts, no feelings and yet she thought it was the cutest damn thing she ever saw and, honest to God, thought it would be rude not to listen to it and it's spiel about The Freedom Trail. He'd learned to feel guilty for giving her the grief he did for her kindness because it was one of her best, most endearing qualities. That didn't mean it would ever stop driving him crazy, especially what little regard she had for herself when it came to others, but her unyielding goodness was a rarity in the wasteland and something MacCready found magnetic.

"Quinn Lee Hardin," He liked the sound of her name on his tongue, the sound catching in his throat at a photo he'd never seen before. He snorted and looked up from the image, shaking his head. It was a photo of Quinn and Dogmeat, the dog licking at her face frantically while she tried to keep him at bay. She must have slipped the photo into his duster at some point. The thought of her tip-toeing around and giggling as she hid it made him chuckle.

It was strange to think he only knew her for eight months. Her place in his life felt so established it were as if she were there the whole time. Knowing there was a time before her didn't seem possible when they were tangled together or when she'd fill a room with her laughter. It was both the best, and the worst feeling. 

"I'm sorry, Lucy." MacCready muttered, returning the polaroids to his duster. Every moment he spent with Quinn was bittersweet with the memory of his late wife settled in his chest. Lucy had died _years_ ago and he still couldn't shake this feeling that the way he felt about Quinn was wrong, "I hope you don't hate me.. I just... I can't help how I feel about her. I swear I've tried. She'd probably drive you crazy if you'd ever met her, Luc'. Girl's got no patience."

He chuckled, lighting another cigarette and watching the water flow by, "She's the most stubborn person I've ever met- maybe the loudest, too. Mouth like a sailor. You'd hate that."

When he felt extra guilty about his feelings for Quinn, MacCready liked to remind himself of how different the two women were. He needed his own fretting mind to know that he wasn't replacing Lucy; he couldn't manage that even if he tried. If he had wanted to be with someone over the last four years, he could have. Instead, he'd cure his loneliness momentarily with a one night stand here and there. He'd convinced himself he never _wanted_ to settle down again. Lucy was gone and he'd resided himself to living his days taking care of Duncan and having his son the only concern he had in his life. Then everything changed. It changed without him realizing it did until it was too late. It felt as if he'd blinked and suddenly he was consumed by an infatuation with Quinn and a need to follow her to the ends of the damn earth.

Life with her around was a roller coaster of emotions that MacCready had a hard time keeping up with. When he'd first met her there was an instant spark and he could admit that now. He couldn't have predicted where the road would have led, though. If anyone had asked him around their first days together where he'd seen everything going, he would have casually admitted that he found Quinn insanely good looking and, being him, would have probably expressed an interest into _getting to know her_ better.

"Yeah, the plan wasn't to fall in-" MacCready choked on his own words, immediately taking a long drag from his cigarette.

_Anyways._

It started with him needing to protect her and then he wound up wanting to protect her. His only intention was to keep her happy and to keep her safe. First it was his morals that had him standing between her and his employer and then it was... something deeper. Finding out it was the Institute he was facing didn't change how he felt. Somewhere along the way he'd accepted the fact that he was willing to risk life and limb to defend her.

MacCready closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, trying with all his might to not allow his mind to go down the dark path it was teetering on. It was a losing battle and he knew it. This demon of his was a juggernaut.

"You were supposed to protect Lucy. How did that go?" He was placing a third cigarette in his mouth and fumbling with his lighter, "How are you supposed to protect Quinn? You've failed time and goddamn time again."

MacCready thought about how it was him who was going to hand her to the Institute. Him who upset her so much she ran off and got herself shot. Him who couldn't save her from the ferals on their way to Goodneighbour. Him who almost died trying to keep her from Roxy. Him who brought her to Goodneighbour where there was a goddamn mole ready to sell her out. Him who nearly let her get taken by the Institute a growing number of times. The last having her scared for her life and choked out..

MacCready's hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted so badly to do good by her and all he did was fail. How long would it take before he fucked up fatally?

"Lucy.." MacCready murmured his wife's name, feeling a prickle in his eyes. Not only did she die, she died so fucking terribly because of him. Why couldn't he have told her they had to push on just a little longer and not attempt to hole up in the metro station? Why didn't he keep better watch? Why the hell wasn't he ready?

The cigarette shook between his lips, a jolt moving through his chest. The misery he felt under the weight of Lucy's death made him feel physical pain. It felt like he was going to collapse in on himself.

MacCready stood up on unsteady legs, his breathing picking up, "Goddamnit."

He was losing control of his thoughts, his mind wandering to a time where he'd surely fail Quinn just like he did Lucy. It was going to happen eventually. How could it not? The wasteland was harsh and unforgiving. She could get shot, taken by Super Mutants, dragged off by raiders, killed by one of the God awful radiated creatures roaming the Commonwealth. What if he couldn't always safeguard her?

What if the Institute didn't fail the next time they came for her?

MacCready had to lean down and put his hands on his knees, the cigarette falling from his mouth. He felt dizzy and he was more aware of his heartbeat than he'd ever been. He could feel his shirt sticking to his back with sweat. Having been plagued with them since the death of Lucy, he knew he was spiraling into a fit of panic. 

With his heart inexplicably racing, MacCready rushed back across Sanctuary. He had to get to Quinn. He had to make sure she was okay. Nearly tripping over his own feet numerous times, he made it back to the house and stumbled inside. He stood in the doorway and felt his chest tighten painfully. Quinn had her back to him, up and about and getting ready for the day. She pulled a t-shirt on and untucked her long hair from under the back of the collar, humming a tune he'd never heard before. 

A shuddering breath escaped his lips and Quinn turned to look at him in surprise. Quickly, she realized who was standing in the doorway and her eyes brightened, that smile he loved so fucking much curving her lips.

_Love._

He _loved_ her. Thoroughly. Completely. MacCready hadn't stood a chance the second he saw her in Vault 111 with her beautiful face peaceful and framed by that wild red hair. Every day he spent with her had him falling down a rabbit hole and before he knew it, she'd made herself comfortable in his wounded heart. The time he spent with her renewed his want to live. He no longer _had_ to live simply for the sake of his son, but he had grown to _want_ to live again and saw that there was still good out there. Apparently you just had to thaw it. 

MacCready was certain he'd known it for awhile somewhere in himself- that he loved her. He hadn't been ready to accept it until that moment, watching her humming to herself and swaying to her own song. The light streaming in through the gaps of the boarded up windows made her look like she were glowing. 

Quinn was the light at the end of the tunnel after years of misery. She felt like salvation. Like he was coming home. 

"RJ?" Quinn tilted her head, looking at him with curious eyes. Her delicate fingers brushed back hair from her face, careful to avoid the bruise. She crossed the room over to him and tugged gently at the lapels of his duster, "You okay?"

MacCready felt like he'd swallowed rocks, the weight in his stomach making him feel sick. He looked down at her and took in every detail of her face, the dread and fear he felt unwilling to pass. He was going to speak, but instead closed his eyes in an attempt to ground himself. He felt her warm lips press to his and she leaned against him- even with his eyes closed he knew she was on the tips of her toes to reach him.

The mercenary loved her. God, did he love her. 

And that's why he had to leave her.


	35. Doll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I legit can't stop thanking you all enough for reading and sticking it out for 35 chapters! I have a couple chapters complete and ready for posting on the update days which is lucky because I'm a baker/decorator and Valentine's Day is coming up and my soul is about to be sucked from my body hahaha. I worked 11 hours yesterday! D:
> 
> Also please let me know how you're liking Hancock so far! I had a ton of fun writing him for this chapter. I'm hoping I'm keeping his characteristics canon believable

Hancock grinned and leaned back harder in his armchair, enjoying the perks of being the mayor- as he did _quite_ frequently. He closed his eyes and grabbed a handful of hair on the head between his legs with a tight fist, groaning happily.  


What could he say? Women loved power.

He was reaching for a Jet inhaler when he heard slow steps ascending the spiral staircase outside of his office, his shining black eyes raising to the closed doors. The Old State House was not a building one could sneak around in; every damn thing creaked. The mouth around his cock moved faster and he forgot about the noise momentarily, his hand guiding her down harder. The footsteps continued to the landing and then the sound was no more. Hancock assumed whoever it was was standing on the other side of the office doors.

Not daring to stop the lady at work, he pulled open a drawer of his desk for easy access to the handgun he kept inside of it, "Ya gonna knock or what?"

The voice on the other side of the door was recognizable, though muffled behind the door, "John..? It's Quinn. I'm.. Um, actually.. I'm sorry. It's so late. I'll come back tomorrow."

It was definitely the little time traveler. He frowned, something in her voice not quite right.

"Nah, hold on a sec," Hancock stroked the chin of the woman kneeling before him, standing up and securing his pants back around his waist along with the tatters of the American flag he wore, "Sorry, sweet cheeks, we'll have to rain check this romp."

The woman didn't look thrilled, her eyes narrowing at him, "Another girl, really?"

He tried his best not to laugh, shrugging nonchalantly, "I'm a sought after man."

Escorting her to the office doors, he pulled them open to reveal unmistakable red hair illuminated by the low lighting along the walls. Hancock forgot about the other woman promptly, even as she walked by the redhead with a little more attitude than he appreciated. He could give her shit later, right now there were more pressing matters.

"Hey, doll," He tilted his head to try and get a better look at her, her slight shoulders slumped.

Quinn pulled her sleeves down over her hands anxiously, finally looking up at him. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and she'd tried to look even remotely composed, the tears wiped away. Hancock knew the look in her eyes and her body language; it was unmistakable. She was heartbroken.

The ghoul groaned, "MacCready, you fucking idiot."

Her lower lip trembled and he sighed, reaching and putting a hand on her shoulder to direct her into the office. She followed his lead, her motions hollow. Shutting the door behind them, he pulled her into a hug and she tucked into him with a sob. 

"He's my buddy, but you know I'll kick his ass for ya', right?" He spoke with his trademark Hancock humour, but he wasn't _entirely_ kidding. Seeing Quinn upset was something he'd come to hate; she was an upbeat and sassy soul at her core. Smoothing her hair down with his marred hand, a thought dawned on him, "Hold on. How the hell did you get here? Weren't you back at Sanctuary?"

Quinn's shoulders shook from a sob and she nodded against his chest, "Was."

Hancock felt a fire light in his stomach, staying silent long enough to convince himself to speak calmly. He hadn't heard the tell-tale sound of the Brotherhood's vertibird, and no caravan had the balls to come around these parts at this time of night. Pulling back from Quinn, he looked down at her, "Quinn."

His breath caught in his throat as he peered down at her and he raised his hand to move her hair. In the better lighting of his office, Hancock could see an angry bruise on the side of her face. Cupping her chin, he turned her head to the side to get a better look at it, only to realize she had an even worse bruise on her neck. It was dark and the hand that caused it did so hard enough for the contusion to take on the exact shape of a hand, "Hold the fucking phone. What the fuck happened to you? Don't fucking tell me MacCready did this to you."

Quinn shook her head and touched her neck, "No. No. God, no. Of course not. It was a Courser.. one came for me a couple days ago."

"What?" Hancock straightened up, looking at her with concern, "You alright?"

She shrugged and pressed her palms to her eyes, rubbing them back to rid herself of the few escaping tears, "Yeah.. I'm alright."

He reached to keep her hair out of the way, inspecting the bruises closer. She had to have taken a hell of a hit to her face, "What happened?"

"I guess the Institute decided that taking me unharmed wasn't necessary anymore. Fine with damaged goods as long as I'm taken alive," Quinn shrugged once again, "Fought back and, well, yeah."

Hancock wanted to ask more questions, to know every detail of what happened. His running brain and his mouth were currently disconnected in shock at her words. Besides, he'd need some time to cool off. Seeing the markings on the girl _pissed him off._

Quinn dragged the tips of her fingers over the contusion on her neck, her voice far away, "We had just been talking about needing a Courser for some kind of.. I don't know. Teleportation device. And then it's like one just fell out of the sky. Is that lucky, or unlucky?"

"Huh," He looked off and debated it, "Maybe both? Hell of a coincidence."

"Mhm.." She redhead nodded, the thought obviously troubling her. Her brow was furrowed and the tears sliding down her cheeks picked up.

Hancock frowned, cupping her face and brushing her tears away with his thumbs, "Goddamnit, doll. I'm sorry."

Quinn tried to laugh, her voice wavering as she tried to hold down her need to sob, "How dumb is it that I'm actually.. more sad about RJ than nearly getting kidnapped?"

She broke again and whimpered. MacCready was going to get an ass whoopin'.

The mayor put his hands on her shoulders and gave them a squeeze, "Doll, really though, how did you get here?"

Her eyes dropped to the floor as if she knew he wouldn't like the answer, "Walked."

Getting mad at her couldn't have possibly been the best thing for her in the moment, but Hancock couldn't help it, his voice growing stern, "Quinn, are you in-fucking-sane?"

Her shoulders tensed and she blinked up at him with tear-filled, angry eyes, "I was thinking that I just.. I didn't want to stay in the place he _left me_. I didn't want to hear anyone ask me where the hell he went and _then_ have everyone give me pity eyes. He said he was going to The Castle to help Preston so that was out of the question and I.."

Quinn was wound up tight, tripping over her own words and she started passed Hancock towards the doors, murmuring, "I left Dogmeat outside of Rexford, I'm gonna go che-"

Hancock immediately grabbed her by her arm and turned her back around to face him, his expression apologetic, "Hey. I'm sorry. It's dangerous out there, is all. Hate to see you.. uh, more bruised. Or worse."

She nodded, gazing down at her feet.

"I'm glad you're here," He gave her shoulder another squeeze, meaning what he said with every fiber of his being, "How can I make you feel better? I'm all yours, doll."

Quinn managed to stop crying- maybe she'd run out, brushing some of her hair from her face, "I could use a drink or twenty."

Hancock laughed, "That's more like it. You came to the right ghoul."

Hours went by, the both of them hanging out down at The Third Rail and drinking enough to know they were going to regret it the next day. Quinn swallowed back her sadness along with shot after shot, that show-stopping smile back on her face. Hancock knew she wasn't fixed and that he hadn't magically mended her broken heart, but she was pink faced and laughing which was good enough for him.

They were two of the five people at the bar, most people having retired to wherever it was they went. It had to have been three or four in the morning and Quinn sat on the bar, much to the chagrin of Charlie, draining a shot of vodka, "Is a pre-hangover a thing? Cuz' I think I might have one."

Hancock refilled her glass, taking a swig from the bottle, "The trick is Med-X before bed. Trade secret."

"Huh," She giggled and took the shot with a grimace, brushing her mane of wavy red hair back, "So _that's_ how you've always managed to survive."

He slid the empty liquor bottle down the bar, winking at her, "You don't stay at the top for long if ya ain't got your wits about ya, doll."

Quinn shifted and crossed her legs under her, her fingers mindlessly playing with the laces of her boots, "I've been wondering- how did I earn the nickname 'doll'?"

"Thanks, Charlie," Hancock saluted the Mister Handy who brought them a bottle of whiskey, turning his attention back to Quinn, "You either love validation or you're fucking blind."

Quinn blinked a few times, her liquor flushed cheeks making him chuckle, "I don't think you were listening when I told you that you're a wasteland gem. Is my voice too sarcastic or something?"

"Maybe _you're_ blind," She pointed at him, leaning in so she could poke him on the forehead, "You say this all like I have a line of eligible suitors waiting on me. Or, you know, like I didn't just get dumped."

For a second he was afraid she might cry, but instead she snatched the bottle of whiskey from him and took a deep drink from it.

"You're not observant are ya, doll?" Hancock plucked the bottle from her lips and took a sip himself, "Heads turn everywhere you go. I've had to give a warning to some creep almost every damn time your cute ass walks around here. There ain't a damn man who would say no to you out here. And, if you haven't noticed, you're surrounded by a group of men willing to die for you." 

"What?" She laughed at that, shaking her head, "They're willing to die _fighting the Institute._ "

"You really _are_ stubborn," He looked up at her from the bar stool, reaching up and pinching her chin between his thumb and pointer finger affectionately, "MacCready couldn't give a fuck less about the Institute. He wants them gone because they want you. The boy scout's got his lawful good thing going on, but he stood between you and a fucking Courser and I bet he'd do it again. And Paladin Dickhead? He definitely gave you that radio for booty call purposes."

Quinn had to put her hand to her mouth, nearly choking on laughter. Swallowing back the stinging liquid Hancock poured for her, she uncrossed her legs and gave him a nudge with her boot. The ghoul grinned at her, shrugging, "You can deny it all you want- but you're the prettiest little thing in the whoooooole daaaaaamn Commonwealth."

"Besides," He continued, giving her knee a squeeze, "For the sake of you not thinking I'm a complete horndog, which I absolutely am, you've got a heart of gold under that _gorgeous_ chest of yours."

"John!" Quinn broke out into a fit of giggles, pulling her t-shirt up to hide her face under the neckline.

Hancock shook his head at her, beginning to lose control of his laughter, as well. He tugged her shirt down to reveal her face and they grinned at one another. The mayor decided happiness looked best on her and he'd be giving MacCready a piece of his mind the next time he saw that dumb fucking punk. And if he were being honest, maybe a fist or two. MacCready was and would always be his friend, but the kid needed a slap to the noggin'.

"Any-fucking-ways. I call ya doll because you're about as caaaa-ute as one," He gave Quinn a side eye, taking a hearty drink from the whiskey bottle, "I'm not convinced you honestly have no idea that you're a looker, though. You're probably playing all us fools like a fiddle."

She shrugged and continued to giggle; she couldn't stop, tilting dangerously far back on the bar. Hancock stood from the stool, grabbing her wrists before she went toppling, grinning and pulling her forward so she sat back up. Picking her up by her waist, he hauled her over his shoulder and she yelped in surprise, "Alright, doll. You're too small for such great heights while drunk."

He could hear her laughing as she hung from his shoulder and he grabbed the liquor bottle from the bar, "Have a good night, Charlie."

The robot started sorting out their empties and shot glasses, speaking in his distinctive British accent, "You as well, sir."

"Heyyyyy," Quinn kicked her legs around lazily, "Where are we going, sir mayor?"

"You need to get to sleep," He started across the floor of The Third Rail, trying not to react to the stares he was getting by the last stragglers of the bar, "And I'm escorting you because I know I can't trust you to get there yourself, ya damn drunk."

She made a sound and he could hear the gears grinding while she tried to come up with something to say. Instead, she went limp as a sign of defeat, "Okay, okay. Onward, noble steed."

"Onward," Hancock gave Quinn's ass a pat, ascending the stairs.

Once they'd made it to Hotel Rexford, he carefully set her back down on her feet and offered his arm to her; she was unsteady under the influence. Dogmeat perked up from his lay near the door, nosing her hand curiously. She smiled at the dog brightly, holding on to Hancock's arm as he walked her back to the suite. 

The moment she stood in front of the door, the ghoul could feel the shift in her mood. He pulled his arm from her grasp, moving it over her shoulder. He was having a hard time seeing straight, "You okay, doll?"

Of course she wasn't.

Quinn shook her head, the motion so small and pitiful. Hancock turned them around and walked her across the hall, poking his head into the suite. Empty. Good. He pushed the door open, motioning for her to go ahead, "This better?"

She nodded and edged into the room, unholstering her handgun and setting it on to the dresser with unsteady hands. Hancock sighed to himself, both disturbed that she'd been foolish enough to wander across the Commonwealth with only the clothes on her back and a gun and that _he_ had been foolish enough to let her come back to the place she shared with MacCready. 

"Ya know, you can stay with me at the State House," He watched her look around the suite, hoping she wasn't about to cry again.

"No, it's okay," She sat on the edge of the bed and her body betrayed her assurance. He could see tears trailing down her cheeks.

Dogmeat padded over to her and sat at her feet, whining up at her. Quinn was refusing to break down entirely, wiping at the tears with a frustrated murmur.

"Get some sleep, alright?" Hancock set the bottle of whiskey on to the dresser, thinking she was going to need it a lot more than him. Quietly, he went to make his exit when Quinn's quiet voice spoke up.

"Hey..?"

He turned from the doorway to look at her, "Yeah, doll?"

Quinn was quiet briefly, wiping at the tears again, "Would.. it be okay if you stayed with me? I don't want to be alone."

Hancock hesitated for the smallest fraction of a second, then nodding and offering her his grin, "Now, how could I say no to you? I told you no man could."

She smiled weakly and shifted around so she sat up against the headboard, her legs stretched out in front of her. Hancock made a mental reminder not to make any stupid moves, despite what his currently pickled brain was hinting for him to do. Quinn was his friend and he cared about her deeply, a rarity for the wild ghoul, but he wasn't kidding when he said she was the best damn looking girl he'd ever seen. To say he wasn't attracted to her would have been a huge lie. Who wouldn't be?

Folding his long jacket over the armchair, he moved in to join her on the bed, settling in next to her with his back pressed to the headboard. He looked at her and frowned because she was still crying silently, her eyes staring sadly at her knees.

He wondered, very seriously, what the hell MacCready could have been thinking to leave her. The mayor may have been drunk, but not drunk enough to inquire about it while Quinn was emotionally charged.

Hancock wasn't great with feelings. Never had been. It made it hard for him to know what to say or do with a crying girl in the long term. He could console them and then send them on their way- but what could he possibly say to Quinn to make her feel better. What could he possibly do?

"How about that Med-X?" He looked at her curiously, "It'll help you not die from your hangover tomorrow- and you'll sleep real good."

Quinn didn't even think about it, nodding, "Yes, please."

Hancock reached down and pulled a syringe from his boot, gently holding Quinn's forearm and administering the drug for her below her folded sleeve. The effects were instantaneous and her tense body relaxed. She let out a sighing breath, her head lolling to the side and resting on his shoulder. He slipped an arm around her and gave her a reasurring squeeze, grabbing at the thin blanket and pulling it up over her.

He rested his head against the top of hers, his body and brain exhausted from their night of drinking, "So... the great Courser battle?"

"Mnn.." Quinn thought for awhile, her words slowing more and more under the effects of the Med-X, "Got caught alone.. hmm.. got my ass kinda kicked and basically strangled till I was out soooo.. I mean, I missed most of it."

"Goddamn," He shook his head, feeling so badly for the girl. Her life since she'd woken up in the Commonwealth was a trial by fire of the worst kind.

A sleepy chuckle managed its way passed her lips, "Yeah. Brightside, though...? Paladin Dickhead tooootally came to the rescue."

Hancock snorted, "Of course he did."

Quinn tucked her legs in against herself, her body leaning against his, "Hey, John?"

"Hmm?"

She placed her hand against his chest, her fingers curling to hold the leather strap that came across his torso. Her voice was distant, the drug tugging her down into the abyss, "I'm sad."

Hancock squeezed her again, kissing her on the side of the head, "I know, princess."


	36. Always Reckless

"What were you thinking, disappearing across the Commonwealth alone? And without your radio?" Paladin Danse lectured Quinn, looming over her in his power armour, "I've worked with a lot of people and I'd have to say this irresponsibility stands out amongst the lot of them."

She sighed, her arms crossed over her chest as she listened to Danse go on about the "severity of her actions" outside the gates of Goodneighbour. Fahrenheit had approached her and Hancock while he was trying, unsuccessfully, to teach her how to play chess and let them know a vertibird was approaching. Moments later, the telltale sound filled the air and Quinn groaned. 

Danse handed her back her radio, "What could have possibly promoted this reckless behaviour?" 

Quinn flinched, her eyes dropping to the cracked cement. She hadn't looked her situation with MacCready in the eye since she'd arrived in Goodneighbour a few days prior. Her and Hancock had a mutual understanding that she didn't want to talk about it and she appreciated the ghoul's respect for her wish.

"Well?" Danse's intense gaze felt like it was burrowing a hole through her and she remained at a loss for words.

"Hey, man. Let up, would ya?" Hancock's voice came from behind her, the sound of the gate closing behind him following.

She tensed, not prepared or in the mood for a confrontation between Danse and Hancock.

"This conversation doesn't include you, _ghoul_ ," Danse spoke with disdain.

Hancock chuckled, the sound somehow threatening, "Oh, you Brotherhood guys are a real trip. I'd like to see what you're capable of without all that power armour."

Danse stepped forward and Quinn instinctively edged closer to Hancock, as if she could do anything to help him against Paladin Danse if he chose to fight, "Trust me, _freak_. You wouldn't."

Before Hancock could continue their escalating bickering, Quinn snapped, "Hey! Danse, that's enough. If that's how you plan to talk to my friends, you can get the fuck out of here."

The second the words left her, she regretted them, her hand raising to her mouth. They needed the Brotherhood on their side and back-talking an officer probably wasn't the best way to keep their loyalty. To her surprise, Danse didn't look angry at her outburst, only keeping his narrowed gaze on Hancock. No retort, no move to leave.

Another gravelly laugh came from behind her and she turned around to gave Hancock a jab in his side with two fingers, "Stop it, John."

His grin stayed on his face, but he nodded, "Only for you, doll."

She shook her head at him and pulled him into a hug, squeezing him as hard as she could muster, "Thank you for everything. I've felt almost human this last bit. I should probably go, though. Institute to destroy and all that."

Quinn had the distinct feeling the mayor was giving Danse a gloating look while he hugged her back. 

"No thanks needed, ever. Honoured you came to me- buuuut I'd prefer you not take a lone field trip across the Commonwealth again, alright?"

"I'll think about it," Quinn winked at him and gave him a wave as she walked back towards Danse, "I'll see you soon, John."

"You got it, doll. Stay safe," Hancock was placing a cigarette between his lips, shooting a remark to Danse, "See ya around, crew cut."

Danse responded with only a sound of disgust, turning and heading towards the vertibird. Quinn glanced back at Hancock and they grinned at one another, the mayor clicking his tongue after her.

The two remained uncomfortably silent in the cabin of the aircraft with Dogmeat laying at Quinn's feet, both of them looking off in opposite directions and watching the landscape go by. She wondered if Danse was silent and angry for her snapping at him, or if he was actually that uncomfortable with general human interaction. Both seemed likely.

The silence was making it hard for her to keep her mind from thinking about all the things she'd held at bay. She thought about MacCready and how he so suddenly needed to be anywhere but near her. He grabbed what few belongings he had and left.

"I can't.. I can't be here, anymore," He'd said to her, the words erupting from him after she'd kissed him. Something was on his mind and it was clear as day when he'd returned to the house from wherever he'd wandered off to while she slept, his face ghostly. 

Quinn had no idea how to respond, not even sure what it was that he meant, "RJ?"

"I have to go," He had started moving around the room, hunting for his rucksack and then his hat.

"What are you talking about?" She turned to watch him, her chest feeling heavy and the slow realization of what he meant settling over her.

"Miss. Hardin?" Danse's voice pulled her from the memory.

Looking over at him, she let out a long breath, "Yeah?"

"Are you.." His voice trailed, unsure of how to proceed, "... alright?"

It wasn't until then that Quinn realized she'd been crying, a tear falling from her chin to her wrist resting on her lap. She quickly wiped the tears away, feeling the wave of sadness approaching her and threatening to take her down. Her bottom lip trembled and she pursed her lips hard- hoping it would keep the sobbing from coming out. Danse looked frightened, but she could see a glimmer of concern there.

"Well," She whimpered out, going silent again and waiting until the urge to entirely break down passed, "MacCready um.. broke up with me..? I guess that's what you'd call it."

Danse might have gone a bit red, the topic something he likely didn't expect. He had no idea how to respond and it showed. It was enough to make Quinn choke out a small laugh.

"I'm.. I, um, I'm very sorry to hear that, Miss. Hardin," He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

She managed the smallest smile, "Heh, yeah.. me, too."

Tongue tied, but trying, Danse was about to say something else when the sound of gunshots rang out. The crackle in the air was coming from laser rounds. Quinn grabbed at the edge of the seat, looking out at the laser fire shooting past the vertibird- the trajectory telling her that they were the target. 

Danse was on his feet, his regular confidence restored and he stood behind the pilot, "Evasive maneuvers! The last thing we need is paperwork for repairs. Circle until I can assess this situation."

He moved to the edge of the cabin, looking down at the ground below. Quinn got up and stood next to him, the group below focused on the vertibird. They were set up on a bridge over water, their camp small but seemingly well put together and organized. Their foes below showed a lot of skin, much like raiders, but the military green they wore made her sneer, "Gunners."

"Looks that way," Danse looked over at her and she blinked up at him. A smirk lifted a corner of his mouth, "Garvey told me about your situation with the Gunners. How about we channel your sadness into anger? Field experience is key."

Quinn flashed him a full grin, "So you _can_ be fun, Paladin. Let's do this."

"Outstanding," He let out a low chuckle, the sound almost alien to the usually stoic Danse, "Pilot, get us in there to drop! Then pull back and await my signal!"

He picked up his helmet from the seating bench. When he placed it on his head, she heard some kind of hiss, the helmet sealing to the rest of the armour. 

Returning to look down at the Gunners below, his voice came out through the armour's speaker system, "Are you ready, Miss. Hardin?"

Quinn nodded, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Maybe shooting a bunch of people wasn't the healthiest coping mechanism, but she'd take it.

"Wait, why isn't the pilot landing? .. Hey!" The question had hardly left her mouth when Danse swept her up from her feet, holding her bridal style, "What are you doing?"

"The pilot can't land on top of the hostiles, Miss. Hardin. And we don't have the luxury of a sneak attack at this point. Brotherhood soldiers are dropped into battle; the power armour can withstand great heights. I don't suppose you can say the same about your legs?"

Quinn found the logic entirely sound- still, it didn't make the idea any less insane, "I guess I can't. Ready when you are."

"Roger," Danse closed the huge metal fingers of his suit to press her against him by her the side of her thigh and her upper arm, "Brace yourself. And be ready to fight the second you're on your feet."

And then suddenly they were falling, the sound of Dogmeat barking in the vertibird fading away. Quinn closed her eyes and pressed her face to Danse's chest, the drop forcing a short scream from her. They landed with earth shaking force, the Paladin holding her tightly to help protect her from the impact. Without pause, he set her on her feet and she did as instructed, drawing the handgun from her holster as quickly as she could muster. 

"Don't remain in the open, Miss. Hardin! Take cover as often as you can!" Danse motioned towards a toppled sea can and Quinn bolted to it, the sound of laser fire whizzing by her. Standing behind the metal container, she peered around the side to survey the scene. There were only five Gunners and most of them were concerned with the Paladin and his extremely dangerous presence. He paid her mind one more time, sounding excited for the fight, "Light em' up!"

Quinn nodded and lined up a shot, the Gunner's head snapping back from the 10mm bullet hitting him between his eyes. A laser bounced off of the sea can above her head and she tucked back behind it, letting out a breath. Ready for more, she ran out from her position and moved forward, kneeling behind a stack of crates. Danse was occupied with two Gunners focusing their fire at him, their shots bouncing off of his armour. Quinn popped up and fired twice at a woman attempting to flank the Paladin and the second bullet hit her in the chest, blood blooming along the green shirt she wore. She looked shocked, clawing at the growing blood stain and then fell to the ground. 

Just one more to deal with.

"Fuck you, Brotherhood!" A well built man came out from behind a barrel near where the woman had fallen, throwing an object towards Danse. Quinn realized it was a grenade.

"Danse! Grenade!" Quinn yelled over the sound of his rifle and he shifted his gaze to the projectile. He dropped to a knee to prepare himself, adjusting his hold on his weapon to hold it like a bat. Swinging with a grunt, the butt of his gun came into contact with the grenade and it sailed back upwards into the air. It exploded above them and Quinn shielded her eyes, moving closer to the crate she was next to.

Hot damn.

Danse whooped, shouting, "Long live the Brotherhood! Quinn, take him out! I've got one more here!"

Quinn vaulted over the crate, feeling more alive than ever, racing across the camp with her handgun drawn. The man who threw the grenade was picking himself off the ground after the detonation. He looked up to see her coming at him, grabbing his laser pistol and firing at her. One of the beams grazed her arm and she grimaced, her skin burning on contact. Throwing a smirk her way, he got to his feet by pulling himself up using the ledge of the bridge.

"Hold on now," He sounded amused and he lowered his weapon, looking Quinn up and down.

She stopped a few paces in front of him, handgun still raised and trained, "Why should I, asshole?"

"Ohhh, well I'll be damned," He was laughing now, the sound making Quinn's eye twitch, "It really is you."

"Me?"

A smirk crept over his mouth, "Good thing I didn't shoot you in your pretty face; you're valuable. You're MacCready's girlfriend, aren'tcha?"

Something within Quinn snapped instantaneously. She let out a cry of anger, charging at the Gunner and only seeing red. He didn't expect her sudden rush and she threw her gun aside, leaping from the ground and tackling him. She crashed into him and they toppled back towards the bridge's guard rail. Unfortunately for the both of them, the top rung was long missing and the back of his knees collided with the lower rung and they went sailing off of the bridge towards the water below.

Quinn felt the wind on her skin and then a rush of water, her and the Gunner hitting the lake. They were submerged and rocketing below with the force of their long fall. Arms and legs were kicking from the both of them, refusing to end the fight despite their dire circumstances. The water stopped them from being able to make contact properly, bubbles from their shouting obscuring their vision. 

Her lungs were burning and Quinn tried her best to peer through the murky water. Grabbing the back of the Gunner's ridiculous top made of only straps, she reached for a frayed rope attached to a sunken leisure boat. Willing herself to hold out just a little longer, she clumsily looped the rope around the straps along his back while he tried to kick her away. Must have been quite the smoker; he was already damn near drowning. Quinn was only finishing the job.

Leaving him leashed to the boat, she kicked her legs furiously to get back to the surface.

Her vision was growing spotty and although she couldn't see clearly, someone wrapped an arm around her waist. Unwisely, Quinn shouted in shock, the last of the air leaving her lungs. She fought against the arm, her kicks and punches growing weaker and weaker. And then there was the sound of water splashing and a rush of air filled her chest.

"Jesus Christ!" Was all she could sputter, panting and sucking in as much oxygen as she possibly could.

Disoriented, Quinn allowed herself to be taken to shore, a strong arm holding her up. She coughed up water and groaned, a shaking hand pushing back her wet hair.

"Are you alright, Miss. Hardin?"

Quinn looked up at the mysterious stranger who brought her back to land and was stunned to see Paladin Danse looking back. His cropped, black hair was slicked back, both his white crewneck t-shirt and black cargo pants soaked. Seeing the soldier outside of his power armour was surreal; it hadn't occurred to her there was a man in there.

"I.. uh.." She didn't mean to stammer, distracted by how little the waterlogged t-shirt left to the imagination. It was apparent that Danse worked out, his tall build all muscle, "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks, Paladin."

Danse nodded and lead her over to a soft incline, helping her take a seat on a large rock jutting from the ground. He sat next to her, running his hand back through his hair, "So, tell me: are you always this reckless?"

Quinn laughed, pulling her hair over her shoulder and wringing it out, "Yeah, I guess I am."

He was studying her, the smallest hint of intrigue in his eyes, "Interesting. You're brave, I'll give you that, Miss. Hardin."

"Paladin, you can just call me Quinn."

"That doesn't seem professional," Danse sounded uncomfortable and Quinn shrugged.

"Fine. But whenever you want to _really_ let loose and be wild- feel free to call me by my first name," She poked fun at him and he scratched at the back of his head.

"Noted."

Danse was hard for Quinn to read in any way, his chilly soldier exterior so convincing she wondered if there was anything else under there. She was committed to finding out, eventually. If she could crack MacCready and Hancock, the Commonwealth ruffians few wanted to cross, she was convinced she could do the same with Danse.

"You know, Paladin. I was beginning to wonder if there was anyone under that power armour of yours. Figured you were fused in there or something."

He actually laughed at that, standing and offering his hand to help her up, "Brotherhood soldiers are trained to think of their armour as their own bodies. We don't spend a lot of time outside of them. But yes, I'm more than a floating head."

Grabbing her hand, he hauled her to her feet and she gave him a quick once over again. Every line of his torso was visible under the skin-tight material, the shirts sleeves stretching against his biceps. More than a floating head, indeed.

"Speaking of which, we need to return to the bridge for my suit and your firearm. Ready to go, Miss. Hardin?"

Quinn nodded, "Ready."

Danse and Quinn landed back in Sanctuary sometime in the late afternoon, the sun finally lowering in the sky and making the temperature bearable. It had been so hot after their dip into the lake that Quinn's thick hair had long since dried and only a few spots of her clothing remained damp.

"I'll be remaining here until further notice. Elder Maxson knows how to reach me," Danse stepped away from the vertibird, performing the Brotherhood salute to the pilot, "Ad Victoriam."

The vehicle lifted and started its journey back to the Brotherhood's home base, Quinn standing next to Danse, "Sticking around, Paladin?"

"Affirmative," He watched the vertibird fly further and further out, "You refused my suggestion to go to the Castle, and I can't leave you here without combat assistance should the Institute, or the Gunners make another attempt on your capture."

"Awww, Paladin, you care," Quinn chuckled and patted him on his metal arm, turning around and starting her way across the bridge into Sanctuary. 

He followed after her and moved to match her pace, handing her the radio he'd taken from the vertibird, "If you could please refrain from swimming with this one."

Quinn clipped the device to her belt, shrugging, "We'll see."

Danse snorted in response and she looked up at him and gave him her most exaggerated innocent smile, batting her lashes, "I will never endanger the beloved radio."

On cue, a voice came through the small speaker, "Quinn? This is Preston."

She took the radio from her belt and spoke into it with the transmit button pressed down, "Hey, Preston. What's up?"

"I wanted to check in with you, make sure you're recovering well. And to let you know that MacCready just arrived here."

Quinn's throat tightened and she took a moment to breathe, "Good to hear. I'm doing just fine, Preston, thanks. Bruising has come down a ton. I can talk and it doesn't hurt so that's a plus."

"I'm glad. Real glad. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help."

"Oh hush. That's literally not your fault in the slightest."

"Yeah, well. I'm sorry, anyways."

"Apology accepted, then. I'm fine, really."

"Okay. Well, I suppose I should keep this brief. We've got a handful of new recruits and they'll start training under Ronnie and myself tomorrow. MacCready's offered to help with honing everyone's sharpshooting skills- which will be extremely helpful," Preston sounded too genuinely pleased for Quinn to want to break the news to him about her and MacCready.

It didn't stop her chest from feeling heavy, though, "That's.. that's really great, Preston. Update me again soon, okay?"

"Of course. Take care of yourself, Quinn. And Paladin? If you're listening: keep an eye on her. She's trouble."

Danse turned his head and spoke into the metal collar of his power armour, "That's becoming quite apparent. She's under my protection, General."

Preston's warm laugh flowed from the radio, "Excellent. Take care, you two."

"Bye, Preston," Quinn smiled at the radio, realizing that she missed her friend quite terribly. Seeing him would have to wait, though. Facing MacCready was out of the question indefinitely. 

She returned the radio to her hip and sighed heavily.

"Is there..." Danse started slowly, figuring out his wording, ".. anything that would make you feel better?"

His lack of people skills were going to amuse her to no end and she grinned at him, "You much of a drinker, Paladin?"

Quinn whistled to Dogmeat and started towards the common area, not waiting for Danse's reply. She glanced back at him over the shoulder and managed to retain a laugh, the man staring after her with a look that said he was equal parts perplexed and irritated.


	37. Doctor Danse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! I'm sorry this chapter is ever so slightly late! It's been a whirlwind couple of days.
> 
> Short story: I absolutely adore MacCready as a companion. Almost to a ridiculous amount. I'd realized recently that the reason I like him so much is because personality wise, he's pretty much an amalgamation of some of my favourite people in my life- including my boyfriend. Well, I guess I should say fiancee. He asked me to marry him on Feb. 17th. I'm still reeling from it lol.
> 
> And then it was my birthday on the 19th. I've had so little time to write!
> 
> This chapter is a bit shorter than most of them, but I hope you enjoy it. I am SO VERY tired and I'm posting this just before I crash for the night so please forgive minor spelling and grammatical errors. I write on WordPad *nervous laughter*

"Outstanding work, Miss. Hardin," Paladin Danse surveyed the area around them, cocking an eyebrow at the number of dead ghouls littering the metro station floor, attaching his laser rifle to the hip of his armour, "You have exceptional aim."

Danse had been instructed to clear out a den of ghouls by Elder Maxson and in order to stand firm in his decision to play Quinn's bodyguard, the Paladin decided she should tag along. She didn't hesitate to accept his offer because, finally, someone was willing to let her stretch her legs and get the experience she knew she needed out in the wasteland. 

Quinn beamed, soaking up the validation and making moves to get to her feet from her spot on the tile where she'd been knocked down by a leaping feral. She was really learning to hate that move of theirs. Her right foot pressed to the floor and she let out a sharp yelp, dropping onto her knees.

Danse was by her side instantly, kneeling next to her, "Miss. Hardin?"

"Ow.. ow.." Quinn hissed between her teeth, a palm pressed gently to her right ankle, "I think I did something to my ankle when I got tackled. I felt something when I landed.. but was sorta occupied by trying not to get chewed on."

"Hmmm," Danse looked around them, "We shouldn't stay down here. I'm confident we did a thorough job, but the last thing we need is to get ambushed. Do you think you can walk with assistance?"

Quinn nodded and held on to the forearm of Danse's armour, using it to pull herself up. Slowly and carefully, they made their way out of the station with only the sound of his mechanical steps echoing off the walls. 

"Here, have a seat," Danse had lead Quinn into a run down office of some sort and did a quick scan for any hostiles before assisting her in sitting on the edge of a desk. He moved back and his suit opened up, allowing him to step out of it. She hadn't grown accustomed to seeing him outside of the tonnes of metal he spend most of his time in.  
"May I?" He stood in front of her, motioning to her wounded ankle.

Quinn nodded and Danse moved down in front of her. He still dwarfed her exceptionally even outside of his suit, his leg long enough that her foot could rest on his lifted thigh as he knelt on one knee, "I apologize if any of this hurts. Tell me if there's any pain that's too much, alright?"

"Alright," She nodded again, watching the Paladin carefully open up the lace of her boot and bracing herself for the twinge when he pulled it off. The pain made her cringe, her lips pressing together.

Slipping her sock off, he stuffed it into the boot he'd set down on the floor, holding her foot and rotating it, "How is that?"

"It hurts, but it's not like... the worst," Quinn wiggled her toes and shrugged, and the Paladin was quick to note her white knuckles holding the edge of the desk.

"Miss Hardin. There's a lot of room between uninjured and "the worst"," He brushed his thumb against her ankle, pressing gently, "Swollen. Bruised. I'm no medic, but I believe you've sprained your ankle."

"In a fight against a horde of ghouls, I guess a sprained ankle isn't so bad," Her brow furrowed and she allowed Danse to redress her foot.

"Good way to think about it. Brace yourself, I'm going to lace your boot pretty tight to keep your ankle still. Okay?"

"Okay."

Quinn whined against her lips, trying to put on a brave face when he pulled the laces taut. Danse was the closest thing she could compare to super soldier and she'd feel like an idiot crying over a sprain. He looked up at her apologetically, "I'm sorry. I did warn you, though."

She blinked down at Danse, a memory flooding in and settling heavy within her.

_"Ow! Jesus!" Quinn squeaked, pulled violently from her musings the second the vodka touched her wound, "Mac!"_

_MacCready raised his hands up quickly in defense, "I said it was gonna sting!"_

_She stared daggers at him and he stood up, using his thumb to gently brush some of her stray hairs from her face, "Keep your hair away from your dent if you can."_

"Miss. Hardin?"

Quinn blinked again, almost surprised to see Danse there- light brown eyes looking up at her instead of familiar, piercing blue, "Huh?"

He stood up, climbing back into his power armour, "I said we should probably move out. We can't waste daylight."

The suit closed up and Quinn very carefully pushed off the desk and on to her feet. She cringed and gave Danse a thumbs up, following after him with a limp. Her tightened boot helped to keep the injury still, but any weight put on to it caused her teeth to grit together.

They'd made it half a block, if even, when Danse turned to her and she stumbled to a stop, "You're in a lot of pain, aren't you?"

Quinn looked up at him and nodded, having to crane her neck to look at the face of his helmet. 

"Turn around," Danse instructed and she looked at him as if he were crazy.

"What? Why?"

He didn't say anything and she could _feel_ the stern look he was giving her under his helmet and she grumbled, pivoting around. His metal hands took her by the waist and she gasped in surprise, the Paladin lifting her with no effort. He carefully and gently placed her on to the left shoulder of his suit, his left hand reaching across her lap and curling over her thigh- acting as a seat belt, "Hold on. Let's not add a head injury to your ailments."

Quinn didn't have a response besides a giggle, feeling like a kid, her arm wrapping around the back of the helmet and holding on to a metal bar on his shoulder.

"We'll get you a Stimpak once we're back in Sanctuary," Danse started the long walk home and Quinn found herself smiling. She was mildly injured, sure, but she couldn't say she didn't have a hell of a day.

Sitting at a picnic table in Sanctuary's common area, Quinn had her ankle resting on Danse's thigh, cringing with every tug of her boot laces. He wanted to get another look to make sure he hadn't misdiagnosed it.

"You know," Danse grasped her calf and pulled her boot off, "For someone so rash- I find you too fragile for your actions. I'd assume you'd want to avoid getting yourself hurt."

Quinn's mouth fell open, "Is that your way of calling me a wimp, Paladin Danse?"

He sounded like he choked, his cheeks instantly picking up a hint of red, "No. No, not at all. What I, uh meant was."

"Hmm?" Quinn hid a grin, happy to make the socially awkward Paladin squirm, "What _did_ you mean?"

"It's that you're, uh, quite small," Danse was assessing her ankle with great detail, avoiding looking at her, "And your idea of protection is leather armour. I don't think you're a, uh, wimp. I said it before- I believe you're brave. Maybe a little too brave for someone of your stature."

Danse was speaking faster and beginning to stumble over his words and Quinn couldn't help but laugh, "Paladin. I'm fucking with you."

He hung his head and shook it, reaching for the Stimpak he'd set on the picnic table, "You're impossible."

The redhead laughed and she patted Danse on his shoulder, "If I had a cap for every time someone told me that."

"I believe it," He raised the Stimpak as if to let her know to be prepared for it, carefully pushing the needle into the most swollen point of her ankle. There was only a split second of seering pain, and then it faded. 

Quinn rolled her ankle and wiggled her toes, the only discomfort remaining being some leftover stiffness of the joint, "Thanks, Doctor Danse."

"You're welcome, Miss. Hardin," He wiped the blood from the puncture left behind from the Stimpak, helping her foot back into her boot, "Keep your laces tight to support your ankle. Stimpaks work slower than people like to assume. It's the painkiller that makes you feel good as new, but it does need some time to work through your system and do its job properly."

"It's weird how the war wiped out so much and yet, there's ways where you guys are ahead," Quinn returned her foot to the ground, tying up her lace, "I don't remember anything that would just about auto-heal you from my time. Not that my memory is exactly reliable."

"I suppose necessity drives innovation," Danse shifted to straddle the bench of the picnic table so he could face her.

Quinn mirrored his seating choice, drumming her nails against her thighs, "It's upsetting that ya'll can figure out a medical marvel, but I can't get running water."

"The Prydwen has running water," Danse spoke matter-of-factly and she snapped her attention to him.

"What? Are you serious?" She leaned in, never more intrigued in recent memory, "I've been slumming it down here while you have _running water_?"

The Paladin looked uncomfortable at her intense scrutiny, nodding, "Well, yes. I suppose so."

Quinn's gaze was dreamy, "I haven't had an actual shower for.. umm, hundreds of years. I'm jealous."

"I don't believe Elder Maxson would approve of a civilian on board for the use of Brotherhood amenities."

"Ugh," Quinn groaned, "You Brotherhood types are way too uptight for your own good."

Danse frowned, "There's a difference between uptight and disciplined, Miss. Hardin. We have rules and we follow them."

"Hmm," She shrugged, a little smirk curling a corner of her mouth, "I dunno, sounds the same to me."

He was studying her face, his inability of what to make of her apparent. She laughed at that, climbing carefully off the picnic bench, "I'm pretty tired. I think I'm gonna get cleaned up and lay down. Getting knocked around by ghouls really takes it out of a person."

"It does," Danse agreed, raising his broad shoulders in a shrug, "You could use a set of power armour with how prone to disaster and chaos you are."

Quinn waved back at Danse while she walked to her house, calling back to him, "Then it wouldn't be very interesting, would it?"

She'd quickly decided that getting cleaned up would have to wait, her bed calling to her tired body. Dogmeat followed after her from his dog bed and jumped up on to the foot of her bed without even a moment of hesitation to make himself comfortable. Quinn giggled at the hound and climbed on to the bed after him, nuzzling in close and draping an arm over him. She fell asleep quickly, curled up on the foot of the bed with her companion and dreaming of nothing, at all.

It felt like she'd only closed her eyes when a sound made her eyes snap open. It was relatively dark in her room, with only the final rays of sunlight peeking through the boards, which told her she'd been out for at least a couple of hours. Dogmeat remained next to her, his side rising and falling with his breathing. If he wasn't on guard, she figured she didn't have to be, either. Quinn picked herself up out of bed and yawned, standing there and swaying sleepily until she got her bearings again. 

Stumbling out into the hallway, she rubbed her eyes, "Hello?"

"Oh, Miss. Hardin," Danse stepped into view, his power armour helmet tucked under his arm, "I apologize for waking you. I, uh, dropped my helmet."

He looked embarrassed at that and she chuckled, "No, no.. it's all good. I didn't think I'd still be sleeping at this point."

The Paladin carried the helmet over to the coffee table, setting it down before he took a seat on the couch. Quinn wondered exactly how tall he was because he managed to even make the pieces of furniture seem small.

Having followed after him with heavy feet, she plopped down next to him and sunk into the couch, "Why the helmet?"

"I've been working on my armour," He spoke to her while lighting the two oil lamps she had on the table, the flickering flames accentuating his strong facial features, "I figured it was time to pack in for the night, but I wanted to calibrate a few more things before I turned in entirely."

"Mind if I sit in awhile?" 

"No," He shook his head, his attention set on digging through a small bag of tools, "Not at all."

They'd fallen into a comfortable silence, Quinn listening to the sound of Danse working away while half asleep. It was nice having company during the night; they were always the hardest while dealing with the ache in her chest. It was hard not thinking about MacCready- maybe the hardest thing she'd had to do.

Her thoughts were straying to that blue eyed mercenary when Danse's voice steered her away, "Miss. Hardin?"

Quinn's eyes opened enough to look at him, "Yeah?"

"I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot when we first met and I feel like I owe you an apology," He was looking at the helmet intently, tinkering with it and definitely avoiding her gaze, "Accusing you of being a synth was unfair."

She shifted on the couch so she could face him comfortably, her legs tucked under herself with an arm slung over the back of the couch, "You already apologized, Paladin."

"I know, but I suppose I wanted to again. It felt like the right thing to do," He worked on a screw somewhere on the underside of the helmet, "Although your methods are... concerning, I've come to respect you and your ideals. I'd like the air between us to be clear."

Quinn chuckled, "Ooooh, praise from Paladin Danse."

She thought she saw him roll his eyes, which only served to amuse her further, "Yes, Miss. Hardin. I'm praising you. I don't know you very well, but I do know that you're impressively capable for someone with only months of wasteland experience under her belt."

He set the helmet back on to the table along with the screwdriver he was working with, turning his head to look at her, "It's admirable that you've chosen to take a stand against the Institute and, well, I'm beginning to think there isn't a thing out there in the Commonwealth you _wouldn't_ stand against if you believed you should. This mission of yours- it has the potential to leave a mark on history."

Danse scratched at the stubble on his chin and she was unable to see his expression with his head turned away from the glowing lanterns, "You're an honourable woman and you're steadfast in what you believe in and what you feel, Miss. Hardin. It's good to stand by your side. Even if your said beliefs and feelings lead you to give me attitude."

Quinn had the side of her head resting against the arm she had hung over the couch, snorting, "There's two things I'm known for across the board, it seems- and that's my severe lack of forethough and recklessness and the fact that I'm kind of an ass."

The Paladin chuckled, "I wouldn't say you're an ass. Disorderly, sure. Defiant, definitely. Unorthodox, absolutely. Not an ass, though. You'd be Elder Maxson's worst nightmare."

The girl's tired eyes had fallen closed again and she spoke with a faraway voice, "I'm already your worst nightmare, Paladin "Rules and Regulations" Danse."

She faded back into the land of sleep, the sound of Danse's low, rumbling laugh the last thing she heard.

Quinn didn't have time to mull over how comforting the sound was.


	38. Unprepared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all!
> 
> Okay so please don't hate me, but I'm gonna be bumping my updates down to one a week for the time being! I'll be updating every Wednesday and possssssiiibbbblllyyy on Saturdays if I manage to have more time to write. So much has been going on lately and I want all my chapters to be my best work- not something I had to rush to meet my deadline. I feel bad if I'm ever late. So after today, the day will be Wednesday! With a full week to write I'm hoping all my chapters will be nice and long. I promise I’m not losing steam or interest in this story, I’m just so drained and feel pulled in all kinds of directions with how much I have to do lately. 
> 
> Unfortunately, this one is quite short! I'm sorry! I hope you still enjoy it!
> 
> P.S- Thank you all for the congratulations and birthday wishes! You're wonderful.
> 
> P.S.S- If you want you can catch me hanging around on Instagram @ shaywut and enjoy insta stories of me probably panicking about wedding planning.

"I'll be returning to the Prydwen as soon as the vertibird arrives," Danse sipped at a cup of coffee Quinn had made, watching the afternoon skies from her living room, "Elder Maxson made the matter seem quite urgent. I'm expected to return today."

"Ugh," Quinn stood next to him, also drinking from a ceramic coffee cup and trying her best to ignore how terrible it was, "Enjoy your running water, Paladin."

He snorted and finished the last of the awful drink, placing the cup on the sill of the window, "You're really hung up on that."

"How could I _not_ be? You get to enjoy an actual shower and I'm living like a chump scrubbing myself down with warm water and a cloth," She grumbled, smoothing her hands over her wavy red hair, "I miss feeling at least half presentable." 

Danse looked a her from the corner of his eye, shrugging, "I'd say you look perfectly presentable, Miss. Hardin."

Quinn didn't expect that response and for once, between her and Danse, she was the one who felt at a loss for words. She assumed it was little more than a cut and dry observation; Danse didn't seem capable of much more, but it took her by surprise. They blinked at one another for a prolonged moment and the Paladin cleared his throat, looking back out the window, "I imagine I'll be leaving soon, I should get my armour from Sturges."

Before she could come up with something to say, Danse had exited the house and she was left looking out the window after him. Did he seem a little flustered, too? While draining the rest of her coffee, Quinn cringed and grabbed his empty mug, taking them both to the rusted kitchen sink and setting them down. She might not have wanted to admit it, but feeling that light nervousness in her stomach was plesant after feeling downright miserable for the last couple of weeks. Maybe she could even call the feeling butterflies. Quinn chuckled at herself and shook her head, walking back to the living room and stretching out across the couch.

It wasn't long before she made herself comfortable and sunk into a light sleep. As it did often, her mind drifted off to a certain mercenary. Quinn could feel his fingers running through her hair, the familar scent of cigarettes and leather surrounding her. He was murmuring something, but she couldn't make it out. She assumed he was reading a comic book; he had a tendancy to read the dialogue out loud, though under his breath. He'd told her that he'd picked up the habit while in Little Lamplight as a child when he'd found reading to be his biggest challenge. It was one of his little quirks that she'd come to love. One of many, really. There wasn't much Quinn could say she _didn't_ adore about the surly man, from his head to his toes, from his constant sarcasm to his rare moments of vulnerability. All those pieces built someone she found incredible in every single damn way.

"Hey, RJ..?" Quinn spoke softly, so softly she wasn't sure if she was speaking loud enough to be heard, "I think I might lo-"

And then those heavy words hit her, MacCready's voice firm, "I have to go."

Quinn sat up quickly, a sudden burst of stars filling the corners of her vision. She pressed the palm of her hand to her mouth and muffled the start of a sob, her eyes closing tightly to ward off the impending tears. Her shoulders remained rigid and she barely moved until the urge to break rolled off of her. Sighing, she got up off the couch and wandered outside to let the sunshine warm her. It wasn't getting to her- not today.

The sound of an incoming vertibird filled the air and Quinn walked over to Danse, who was finishing up some sort of repair on his power armour. He stood up from the squat he'd been in, rolling his shoulders. Quinn watched the material of his undershirt pinch between his muscles, his strong arms entirely exposed and she felt her eyebrows raise, "Huh."

Danse turned to face her, untying the arms of the orange Brotherhood jumper that he had wrapped around his waist. Pulling it up, he slid his arms into the sleeves, "Miss. Hardin."

"Paladin," She nodded and mock saluted him with a lopsided grin, "I guess you're out of here, huh?"

"I'm afraid so," He pulled the zipper up, the jumper closing around his broad torso, "Can I request you refrain from rash decision making while I'm gone?"

"Of course you can," Quinn watched Danse climb into his power armour, stepping back to make room for him to step off the driveway of Preston's home, "I probably won't, though."

She could hear an irritated groan come from behind his helmet, "Absolutely impossible."

Quinn laughed and joined him in walking down the road towards the landing vertibird, knocking on the arm of his armour with a metallic thud, "I'll put some effort into it. How interesting could it possibly get in Sanctuary Hills? Well, Courser visits aside."

As she spoke, she watched the debris settle and the first thing she saw was the smiling face of Preston Garvey, his long blue coat carried by the shifting air. She squealed happily and ran down the street to her friend, the Minuteman bracing himself for the inevitable leaping hug he was about to recieve, wearing a matching smile. They collided and she wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing him as hard as she could, "Welcome home!"

Preston chuckled, giving her a hearty hug before putting his hands on her shoulders and pushing her back gently to an arms length away, analyzing her face, "All healed up, Quinn?"

She nodded and touched the side of her face where the horrible bruise had been, "I'm fine, Preston. It took awhile for the bruising to fade, but I'm back to a hundred percent. Really. Don't fuss."

As he always did, Preston patted her cheek affectionately, "Alright, alright. Fussing over."

Quinn smiled brightly, but it was quick to falter, and then fade entirely. She spotted movement over Preston's shoulder, the shape familiar. Peering passed the Minuteman, she immediately felt as if she couldn't breath. Tousled brown hair, impossibly blue eyes and a brown duster she'd recognize anywhere.

He was looking anywhere he could but at her until he couldn't avoid her shocked stare any longer. His gaze met hers and Quinn felt like her chest was about to cave.

MacCready opened his mouth to speak.


	39. Hesitation And Heartache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this a few hours early cause why not? I'm proud of being able to sit down and write a long chapter after the last few weeks of struggling.

"Hey."

Quinn stared over Preston's shoulder at MacCready in disbelief. Her chest ached, but it was filling with a boiling anger that overshadowed it. 

_Hey?_ That's all he had to say to her?

She scoffed, the sound bordering on a bitter laugh. She knew she looked disappointed when what she wanted was to convey how pissed off she was. It would have to do; she was walking away in a hurry, brushing by Danse. The sound of power armour opening came from behind her, heavy footsteps following her.

"Miss. Hardin," Danse was tailing her and just as she was about to pass the threshold, she felt his large hand on her shoulder, "Wait."

Quinn whirled around, her soft features set in a scowl, "Why? Why would you have him back here, Danse? Why the hell would you do that?"

Danse's hand dropped back to his side, "I had no part in that, Miss. Hardin. I called the General in because there's no chance I'd leave you here without protection. I didn't, and would have never asked that insubordinate _mercenary_ to return here."

He sounded genuinely irate, though his voice remained even, "Especially not after how much he's upset you."

The heartache she felt was sitting front and center, and she stepped closer to Danse as anxiety creeped up along with it, "Please don't leave me here. I don't want to be here. I can't. I'm not ready to deal with this. Ple-"

Abruptly, she was engulfed in the Paladin's arms and it took everything in her not to let loose. Being around MacCready again was something she knew she'd have to accept, it just wasn't supposed to be so soon. Her heart was still too damn raw.

"I'm sorry, Miss. Hardin. I truly am," Danse's voice had softened to a tone she'd never heard from him before, the sound soothing, "I can't take you with me. Elder Maxson would disapprove greatly."

Quinn nodded and remained silent, still willing herself to hold back her tears. She didn't want to cry over MacCready anymore. Danse held her a little longer before he released her, "I have to go. I'll be back as soon as I can, Miss. Hardin."

He took a few steps back and left her with parting words while he turned to take his leave, "And don't run off again, understood?"

Danse walked back to his power armour as Preston and MacCready were headed towards the central home. From half a block away, Quinn couldn't see their expressions, but she could certainly feel the tension radiating between the Paladin and the mercenary in the brief moment they crossed paths. Danse stared down at MacCready, and unsurprisingly, MacCready stared back defiantly.

She felt something in the pit of her stomach from the way Danse was standing up for her, and despite her best efforts, something stronger for MacCready's unshaking attitude. A heavy sigh escaped her lips and she looked down at her feet to see Dogmeat panting up at her, his big eyes concerned. Quinn smilled and scratched him behind his ears, "How ya doing, buddy?"

Quinn's attention turned back to Preston and MacCready, the Minuteman looking at her with poorly covered regret. If he hadn't known _something_ had happened between her and MacCready, he certainly did now. She waved weakly to Preston and gave him an expression that told him they could talk later.

For now, Quinn needed to be alone.

She spent the remainder of the day holed up in her house and furiously scrubbing at every inch she could reach and moving her minimal furniture around in all the possible formations she could fathom. The sun had long since set by the time she called it quits, with only lanterns placed around to light her project. When it was all said and done, she was impressed with how clean she'd gotten the floors and the walls, but her furniture more or less wound up in the same places they'd been before.

Quinn sat on the arm of her couch and looked around the room, feeling terribly small in the big space. That urge to break started to creep up again and she sighed in frustration at herself. She'd used a lot of time in the last while wishing MacCready would come back and fix everything, but now he was somewhere in Sanctuary only meters away and she'd never felt worse.

A light knock on the door made her gasp. It was loud compared to the still and uncomfortable silence of her living room. Pushing off of the armrest, Quinn walked to the door and rubbed at her eyes to ensure they were clear of tears. She opened the door with her heart racing, much of her wondering if she'd find blue eyes behind the door.

"Hey, Quinn," Preston stood at her doorstep, the lanterns reflecting off his kind eyes, "Can I come in?"

Quinn smiled and opened the door further, motioning for him to enter, "Always, general."

He chuckled at that and brushed one shoulder off of his uniform, and then the other, "I've grown to enjoy the look, if I do say so myself."

"It was made for you," She nodded, her words nothing but truth. Preston deciding to lead the Minutemen was one of the few things left in the Commonwealth that brought her something she could call true happiness. There was nobody else worthy of it and Quinn would stand by that opinion to the very end.

"Maybe," Preston was smiling, cupping the top of his hat and raising it up, only to drop it back down on to his head, "I opted to keep my old hat, though. The general one made me feel like a pirate."

Quinn burst out laughing, "Yeah, I guess it did have some pirate qualities. I approve of your old hat."

Preston was laughing, too, however it slowly faded and he looked at her with cautious eyes, "You're not mad at me, are you?"

Moving over to sit on a corner of her coffee table, she shook her head, "No, not at all. It's pretty obvious you didn't know about..."

Her voice trailed and Preston sat on the couch, his knee brushing against hers, "Can I ask what happened?"

Quinn shrugged, looking dubious, "Preston, I honestly have no fucking idea. He just.. well, abridged, he said he had to go and then he did."

Preston placed a hand on her shoulder, "Damn. I'm sorry, Quinn."

"Yeah," She managed a shaky smile, patting his hand, "I didn't see it coming. Not even a little."

"I don't understand why he'd come back here. That's so...mean." Quinn sniffled, clearing her throat as if it would clear the pain she was feeling.

A cringe appeared over Preston's face and he spoke carefully, "That's... my fault, actually. MacCready was hellbent on staying at the Castle to continue with training the others, and I insisted he come with me. I, uh, kind of wouldn't take no for an answer. Here I thought he felt obligated to his duties and I was doing him a favour by bringing him to see you."

Quinn choked out a laugh, the situation so very Preston that she couldn't bring herself to be upset at him. As the Minuteman did, he only wanted to help and do something good. Unable to say anything with the swirl of emotions ripping through her, she tugged at his arm to pull him in and wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. He complied and removed his hat, placing it on the coffee table and returning her embrace. A large, gloved hand rubbed up and down along her back and he sighed, "I truly am sorry, Quinn."

Sitting back again, she blinked away a few tears, "I know. It's not your fault."

The Minuteman seemed to be thinking out loud, looking as confused as Quinn had been over the whole situation, "He's seemed off, now that I understand what's going on here. I mostly chalked it up to the fact that he's kind of a jerk."

Quinn snickered and Preston continued, "I think he's been trying to stay occupied."

"He's the one who ran off, I don't see what he's got to be any sort of upset about it," She spoke with a bitterness she could almost taste.

"Maybe he didn't necessarily want to," Preston's voice trailed off, clearly still tossing the whole situation around in his mind. Quinn felt a pang of annoyance, wishing her friend could just be angry with her instead of his usual level-headed self. 

"I don't know," She stood up, ready for the conversation to be over.

He could sense she wasn't pleased and also stood, raising his hands up to ward away her wrath, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just... odd. Everything he's done, it doesn't seem like the kind of things you do for someone you'd even _think_ about leaving."

Quinn didn't reply and Preston scratched the back of his neck while retrieving his hat from the table, "I'll drop it. Thinking out loud."

He started towards the door, digging around in one of his jacket pockets. He pulled out a couple of chocolate bars, waving them at her, "Too mad to accept a gift or two?"

She grumbled and begrudgingly snagged the treats from his hand, her mouth pressed into a pout. Preston placed his hat back on his head and offered her the smile that always, without fail, made her do the same, "Maybe it doesn't feel like it right now, but you're gonna be okay, Quinn. MacCready lost out on you _and_ he definitely doesn't have any candy, so who wins?"

Quinn laughed, feeling thankful for her friend for the millionth time since the day she woke. He saluted her with two fingers to the brim of his hat, closing the door with a click behind him. 

"Ready for bed, boy?" Quinn patted her thigh and Dogmeat was quick to jump up out of his dog bed, following closely behind her as she went to her bedroom. 

She changed into an oversized flanel button up and a pair of shorts, her hair tied up into a bun at the top of her head. Laying down, she grabbed at the thin blanket that was bundled at her feet and pulled it over herself completely. Dogmeat's nose poked in under the blanket and he shimmied his way in to lay next to Quinn and lick her chin a couple times. 

"Hey, boy?" She spoke to the dog, his head tilting at her curiously, "Do you think Preston's right? About RJ not wanting to leave?"

Dogmeat whined and barked twice, licking at her face with more vigor. Quinn laughed and pushed his head away gently, her other hand tugging her pillow closer to her head. It took some time, but she managed to fall asleep- MacCready and his intentions on her mind, his hands on her body.

"You're shaking, angel.." He murmured into her ear, the stubble on his chin grazing her cheek. He had her pressed against a stone wall, the hard surface cold against her back. She paid no mind to the chill; the heat between her legs more than made up for it. MacCready's hand was tucked into the front of her jeans, his deft fingers magic.

She let out a breathless giggle, her hands grasping his shoulders for dear life as her legs threatened to give out from under her. He leaned in further and kissed her neck, his hand not relenting despite her squirming. Quinn was losing control of her breathing, moans escaping regardless of how hard she was trying to remain quiet.

Her feet parted further in an attempt to strengthen her stance and she whimpered with her forehead pressed against his chest, "RJ, I'm so close... So close."

MacCready chuckled and plunged two fingers into her, the palm of his hand rubbing against her clit. He curled his fingers up and a scream ripped passed her lips as she came, her body going rigid from the pleasure coursing through her. He didn't stop there and she clasped a hand over her mouth to muffle herself, her knees buckling. Leaning harder against her to keep her up, the mercenary let out a wicked chuckle against her ear and, good God, the sound was sexy.

"RJ!" Quinn gasped sharply and her eyes flew open, her heart thudding against her chest. She laid there and stared up at the ceiling with tired eyes, her lower body still quivering from her dream. She laughed at herself in disbelief, turning on to her side and noticing an object on the night stand.

She groaned, "Ah, fuck."

There, sitting on the worn wood, was the envelope that had arrived days prior with Carla. It was addressed to MacCready. Running missions with Danse had her forgetting about the letter promptly and it was left mostly tucked under a couple of books she'd taken to reading before bed. 

Quinn sat up and stared at the letter, knowing it needed to be given to him whether she was upset with him or not. It wouldn't feel right not to.

"Don't be a baby," She spoke to herself, swinging her legs off the edge of the bed and beginning to prepare for the day and to prepare for standing face to face with MacCready again. 

She'd been muttering affirmations to herself through the course of getting ready, hoping with everything she had that it'd help her through her task.

"It's just a letter, just a letter, just a letter," She repeated as she pulled on a black tanktop and a worn pair of jeans.

"Hand it over and go, you can just hand it over and go," She looked at herself in the clouded mirror mounted on the bathroom wall, fidgeting with her hair until she was happy with it in a high ponytail, a few strands of red hair falling to frame her face. 

"You're gonna have to learn to work with him again, anyways. He's part of the cause and that's not gonna be done with over night," Quinn pushed the books on the night stand aside and picked up the envelope, "Hand it over and go. Easy."

"Easy," She nodded to herself and walked out of the house, spotting MacCready instantly. He stood leaning against a wall, chatting with Sturges who was tinkering with the power armour station. It took everything in her not to make a sharp u-turn, her heart hammering as she walked across the road. 

Sturges caught her movement in the corner of his eye and he grinned at her, speaking in his drawl, "Mornin', Quinn! I hope my bangin around didn't wake you."

Quinn shook her head and smiled, her attention on the handyman sharp to avoid looking at MacCready who'd turned his head to look over at her. Walking up on to the driveway, she let out a discreet breath before turning to MacCready. They stood there looking at one another for a few long and silent beats. A cigarette hung from his mouth, his eyes scanning her face.

"Here," She raised the trembling hand closed around the envelope, holding it out to him.

He took the item from her hand and their fingers brushed together. Quinn was quick to recoil, taking a step back, "I hope there's good news in there."

Doing what she did best in uncomfortable situations, she turned around and briskly returned to her house. Closing the door, she leaned back against it heavily and exhaled a breath she'd been holding since the second she spoke to him. She wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there, her eyes closed and shoulders slumped, when a crackle burst from the radio on her hip.

"Yo, fire cracker? Testing one, two, three."

She held the radio in her hand and tried to wrap her head around what was happening, "Deacon?"

"That's me. Miss me, yet?"

Quinn giggled into the radio, nodding even if he couldn't see it, "Yeah, yeah. Of course. How'd you convince Danse to give you a radio?"

"Pfft, you think that'd ever happen? The stick up that cat's ass is _unreal_."

"Yeah, he wasn't exactly thrilled to find out I was working with you guys."

Deacon laughed, "Shocking. Anyways, knowing you contacted Danse through your radio got me thinking. So I got Tinker Tom to work on a way to hijack the Brotherhood's radio frequency. This way we can stay up all night and gossip to our heart's content."

Quinn had the radio pressed to her mouth and she barely contained a smile; Deacon was just too entertaining, "Bad news, though. The only way this works is if I radio you first. Tom isn't sure he'll be able to figure out a way for you to hop over to us."

"Better than nothing, right?"

"Definitely. Anyways, I wanted to update you on the Courser chip."

In the whirlwind last while, Quinn had nearly forgotten about it entirely. Working on staying busy enough to not allow for herself to think too much about MacCready occupied most of her days, "Good news?"

"Tom thinks hes close to cracking the encryption on the chip. Once that happens we can figure out where to go from there. We've got our feelers out to try and contact some ex-Institute scientist who may be able to help us... but that's entirely speculation at this point. We don't even know for sure if he's alive."

Quinn waited a beat to see if he had anything else to say, "Sounds good to me. I'm glad we're making progress."

"Same here. It might be some time before I can bring you any _real_ news, but this is a start. I should go, though. Des' is giving me the eye."

Rolling her eyes, she chuckled into the radio, "Okay. Bye, Deacon."

"Later, fire cracker. Stay outta trouble."

Clipping the radio back on to her belt, she closed her eyes once again. Some good news was welcome, but it wasn't enough to cover up her heavy heart. She was about to head to her room to continue hiding away when she heard a knock against the door. The sound was so light she'd barely heard it, as if whoever was on the other side was unsure of themselves.

Quinn opened the door and MacCready was in the middle of turning around to leave, his motions faltering. He faced her again, his expression difficult for her to read- as it often was.

"Quinn, I.." He started, taking off his hat and brushing his messy hair back, "The cure is working. Duncan is slowly improving."

She smiled at that, feeling relief, "Really? RJ, that's great. That's really great."

MacCready watched her smile, a prolonged moment passing before he blinked back up to her eyes, "Yeah, it is. I feel a million times lighter. And I wanted to..."

He leaned against the doorway, seeming unsure of weather to look at his feet or at her, "I wanted to thank you again. My kid is gonna live because of you and I don't know how I can repay you. I have to repay you."

They both moved at the same time, embracing one another tightly. Quinn pressed her face against his chest and he rested his head on top of hers, neither of them wanting to let go of the other. They remained in their embrace, pulling back just enough to look at one another. Their eyes said so many things while they remained silent. MacCready leaned in and she was certain he was going to cover her lips with his own, a breath catching in her throat. However, he tilted his head down and sighed, pulling away from her reluctantly.

He looked down at her with something that was missing the day he ran off. He was no longer frantic or firm. Instead, there was only sorrow there in his bright blues. Was this what Hancock saw the night she showed up to Goodneighbour? Heartbreak?

MacCready raised his hand and brushed the stray hairs from her face, his thumb drawing down from her temple to her cheek. He murmured a hurried apology and then he was off, heading back towards Preston's home. Quinn watched him until he disappeared into the building, feeling that emptiness she'd come to know well. She didn't shed any tears; whatever it was she was feeling was beyond that. 

Touching the side of her face where she felt the warmth of his hand, Quinn turned around and stepped back into her home, the door closing gently behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks (for the trillionth time) for following the adventures of Quinn and company! <3 This was a sad one to write- I really feel for Quinn and Mac. :'(


	40. Prelude

Danse stared down the bridge leading to Sanctuary Hills, asking himself for the millionth time why he bothered to return to the settlement. He was no longer a Paladin with useful resources. Nor was he even _Danse_. No, he was never Danse. From his earliest memories to that exact moment where he stood unsure he was only a construct built by the hands of his sworn enemy. A thing. A programmable object. 

It had all spiraled out of control quickly once he'd returned to the Prydwen, the whirlwind of events ending with him vaulting from the aircraft in his power armour and a handful of Brotherhood soldiers laying injured in his wake. The cement shattered beneath his weight and he quickly abandoned his beloved armour on the Boston Airport tarmac. Every active set had a tracking chip installed in the frame which left him with no choice but to leave it behind. He hesitated briefly, sparing one final glance at the mech before dashing out into the wasteland.

After the confrontation, Danse spent the following three days laying as low as he could to avoid being spotted by ground soldiers, or worse, an armed vertibird. He'd move out once the sun set, making his way northwest as carefully and calculated as he could. All he had were the clothes on his back and his laser rifle and that left him with only the option to stay as invisible as he could. That is, unless he wanted to get himself killed.

"That's still up for debate," He murmured to himself in the darkness, walking down the silent road of Sanctuary. It was likely somewhere around two or three in the morning and not a soul remained awake at the settlement after the sweltering day.

He pressed his hand against the front door of Quinn's home, his head hanging low. What was he thinking? Why would he come here of all places? He was a synth, a horrid machine and none of the good people of Sanctuary should have to cross paths with the likes of him. Especially not _her_. She was a good, although perplexing, woman and her greatest enemy was the Institute: the very people who created him. 

And yet here he was, standing on her doorstep. He should have let Maxson execute him on the Prydwen, but instinct kicked in and he fought for his life and went AWOL from the faction that he'd dedicated his life to. Nothing he did, thought, or felt had seemed right since he stood accused. Everything had become muddled.

Danse took a long breath, knocking on the door before he lost his nerve. He'd come all this way, after all. It couldn't hurt to see her one last time. 

Dogmeat let out a short bark and he cringed, hoping he didn't wake the whole neighbourhood. The last thing he needed after all he'd been through was dealing with the mercenary and his _infuriating_ disrespect. 

"Paladin?" Quinn's voice brought him back from his thoughts, her face barely visible between the crack of the open door. Her voice was tired, a hand reaching up to rub at her eyes.

He lost his ability to speak until he cleared his throat, "Miss. Hardin. I apologize for how late it is."

Quinn shook her head and opened the door completely, inviting him in, "Don't worry about it. I was having a hell of a time falling asleep, anyways."

She wandered around the living room, her bare feet shuffling on the floor as she lit a lantern on her coffee table and then one on her kitchen island. The glow was minimal, but enough for him to make out the living space and for him to see her standing there in nothing but shorts and a loose flannel shirt held closed by two buttons. Danse looked away sharply, moving over to sit on the arm of her couch. He didn't want to allow himself to get comfortable; he knew he couldn't stay. 

"Is everything okay?" Quinn was leaning against the island, turning a dial on the lantern to increase the height of the flame.

He didn't reply, the fear of telling her the truth freezing him solid. Fear, hesitation and uncertainty weren't things he was accustomed to handling and it made Danse feel nauseous. As a member of the Brotherhood, he was steadfast in everything he did. Reaching to lean his rifle against the coffee table, he sighed, "I.. I received some disturbing intel a few days back."

When he looked up at her, her features were frightened and she slowly pushed off the counter to stand straight, "What is it?"

Danse's hand cupped his chin and rubbed at his stubble, unable to will himself to say what he needed to. The floor had become rather interesting to him, watching the way the lantern's flames caused flickering shadows along the worn material. He needed to distract himself from meeting her gaze.

"Paladin?" Quinn sounded uncomfortable, "You got me a little wigged out here."

Closing his eyes tightly, he blurted the words out, "I'm a synth."

The long silence that followed made his stomach drop and he risked looking over at Quinn. She looked stunned, but there was nothing there that he'd anticipcated- no horror, no disgust, no anger. 

Scratching the back of her head, she walked across the floor to him and sat on the edge of the coffee table, "Okay, you're gonna have to walk me through this."

He adjusted so he faced her, still having a hard time looking at her straight, "I was called back to the Prydwen to be.. to be court martialed. The Brotherhood discovered files while they continued their research on the Institute and I suppose dots connected back to me. I was part of some sort of database."

"I'm M7-97," Danse held his head in his hands, feeling like he was plummeting from great heights, "Not Paladin Danse. Not anyone."

"Hey," Quinn spoke softly and he felt her hands on his forearm, making him lower his hand from the grasp he had on a handful of jet black hair, "Hey, take a sec."

Why was she still being so kind to him? He wasn't human.

"You _are_ someone," She moved her hands to squeeze his and, for the first time, Danse truly noticed how small she was in comparison to him- her hands together could barely cover one of his, "You have thoughts and feelings, don't you?"

Danse swallowed, shrugging in defeat, "Do I? Or have I been built and coded to think that I do?"

Quinn frowned, tossing the idea around in her head, "I don't know, Danse. I'm sorry."

"I'm not Danse, Miss. Hardin," He spoke firmer than he intended and the girl frowned. Immediately, Danse left the arm of the couch and knelt in front of her, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way."

Quinn offered him a faint smile and she looked into his eyes, searching. How did someone as dainty as her survive the wasteland the way she had? On his knees, he could look her in the face as she sat on the coffee table. They were silent briefly before she spoke again, "To me, you're always gonna be Danse so you might as well get used to it. Synth or not, you're still the Danse I met just outside of Goodneighbour. Big and tough and impervious to fun."

To his surprise, a snort of laughter burst out of him. In that moment it was made crystal clear why he'd come back to her. Quinn was compassionate- no matter who, or what someone was. Somewhere within himself he must have known she'd offer him the understanding he desperately needed after the standoff on the Prydwen where his existence unraveled. 

"What happens now?" Quinn asked quietly, the concern thick as she spoke.

Seeing her looking as worried as she did made it impossible for Danse to tell her the truth. He didn't have the heart to do that to her. He hadn't known her long, but what he did know told him that if she knew everything, that he was marked for death, that she'd get tangled in the mess trying to help. Assisting a synth would add the Brotherhood to her list of enemies.

Absolutely not.

"Well, I've been stripped of my ranks with the Brotherhood," It wasn't exactly a lie, "I'm no longer a Paladin and I'm... no longer welcome."

His brow furrowed, saying it out loud hurting far more than he'd anticipated. Knowing his life was forfeit felt minuscule compared to the knowledge that everything he'd worked for and believed in was torn from him. 

He was nothing. He had nothing.

"I can't begin to imagine how you feel right now," Quinn sighed, her hands still holding on to his. Her thumbs idly caressed the back of his hand, "You're not alone, though, okay? You've got Sanctuary. Stick around for the shitty coffee."

Danse smiled, but it was quick to falter. No. He didn't deserve to be welcome or to be cared for. His chest tightened, something building in him he hadn't felt in years and his eyes started to sting, "I'm not worthy of your goodwill, Miss. Hardin."

He stiffened when Quinn unexpectedly threw her arms around him, his hands hovering over her waist in surprise. Lowering his forehead to her shoulder, he hugged her back and trembled with the urge to sob. 

"I'm sorry, Miss. Hardin," Danse took a breath, speaking to her shoulder without the courage to have her see him shed tears, "It must be something- having to comfort a grown man."

She leaned back to look at him, giggling, "You're seriously worried about what I think after all this? It's okay, I still think you're _very manly_."

Her eyes remained concerned, but her mouth showed him that heartwarming smile he'd been learning to like. Danse didn't know what came over him, his hand raising to cup the side of Quinn's face. He brushed his thumb against her cheek and, to his surprise, she leaned her head against his palm. The affection felt alien, but not unwelcome. 

Danse couldn't recall the last time he'd felt even a split second of tenderness; the Brotherhood wasn't the place for such things. The faction wanted the perfect soldiers, people who were disciplined in every possible way, and Danse made himself just that. Since he was officially part of the ranks, he could count on one hand the times he'd even _felt_ something aside from what they wanted him to. Once, when he'd demanded his commanding officer send out a search team for his missing friend, Cutler. Again, when he'd grieved the death of Paladin Krieg. The others? They were all because of Quinn- the soft spot he'd grown for her had him bending Brotherhood rules left, right and center.

They were silent for a long time and, for once, Danse didn't feel uncomfortable or misplaced. He wouldn't have been able to put into words what he was feeling, but he knew deep in himself that it was pleasant. The lead ball that had settled in his gut was easier to ignore.

Against everything that'd been instilled in him, he leaned in closer to Quinn. She was looking at him with half-lidded eyes that fell to his lips. 

"Miss. Hardin?" He spoke her name as a question, his hand slipping back to bury itself into her hair.

Quinn's smile returned and she laughed, the sound carrying into her words, "Danse, are you trying to make a move on me while still refusing to call me by my first name?"

He cracked a timid smile, his heart beating fast enough to make him dizzy. Maybe it was just being so close to her that had his head swimming. It took every ounce of will power he had, but Danse managed to pull back from her, rising to his feet, "Perhaps some other time."

If only there could be another time.

Quinn stood, as well, tucking her hair behind her ear. He figured that were the lighting better, he might even see her blushing. So kind. So petite. 

Danse may not have been ready to admit it, but something had switched inside of him when he'd jumped off the Prydwen. Looking at Quinn made it easy for him to feel whatever it was that had changed. He was sorry he wouldn't be able to figure out what that was.

"Danse?" 

He blinked, shaking himself out of his trailing thoughts, "Yes, Miss. Hardin?"

"Are you gonna be okay? I know that sounds pretty stupid... you just had your life turned upside down, but.."

She shouldn't care. He wasn't real.

Danse felt his lips curve into a smile, raising a hand to brush back through her hair once again. It was a red he'd never seen before, thick and a little unruly with curls. He liked it, though. Had he ever liked anyone's hair before?

He looked away and cleared his throat, "I'll be fine. I simply need... time. To adjust, I suppose."

Quinn nodded, "Okay. Are you tired?"

"Exhausted," He realized how heavy his limbs felt. It had been a long three days and he'd been unable to sleep much longer than in twenty minute intervals while on the run. 

"Let's get some sleep, then," Quinn moved from lantern to lantern and extinguished them, the living room fading into blues and blacks. He could hear her heading down the hall towards her bedroom. Danse let out a breath he felt he'd been holding forever, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark.

"Come on," Quinn called to him from the room and he froze, unsure if he'd heard her correctly.

When he didn't reply, she continued and he could hear the smile in her voice, "Don't worry, Danse. I'll keep my hands to myself. We both know you barely fit on the couch."

He chuckled and brushed his hands back through his hair, turning and following after her. Danse's eyes slowly adjusted and when he entered her room, she was in the middle of making herself comfortable, curled up under a thin, worn blanket.

"Isn't it a little hot for that, Miss. Hardin?" He sat on the edge of the bed and removed his combat boots, feeling her eyes on his back.

"Mostly, yeah," He felt her shift, "It's comforting, though. Feels better than being all exposed where the monsters can get you."

"Monsters?" Danse remained hesitant in his motions, laying down next to the girl.

Quinn giggled, shaking her head, "Nevermind. Pre war mumbo jumbo."

He stretched out and groaned, the soft mattress the best feeling he'd experienced in days, "I'd like to hear it. If you don't mind?"

She rolled on to her stomach, her arms wrapped around the pillow under her head, "As kids, it was kind of a universal thing that we'd feel safe under our blankets. We'd always been told spooky stories to help our parents keep us in line. If you act up the monster under the bed might get you. We'd be too scared to sleep with anything poking out from the blankets, cause that meant something could grab us."

Danse blinked, barely managing to make sense of what she was telling him, "You were told there were monsters waiting to come get you- by your own parents?"

"Well," Quinn tried not to sigh, "I remember it being common, but... I don't really know for sure if _my_ parents were like that."

He put his hand on his face, feeling like an idiot, "I'm sorry, Miss. Hardin. It slipped my mind."

"It's okay," Quinn's voice was still light and he turned his head to look at her. She was looking back at him, shrugging again with a small smile playing her lips, "Slipped my mind, too."

Of course she'd crack some kind of joke, "Miss. Hardin? How do you do it?"

"Do what?" 

"Stay as positive as you do," Danse folded his hands on his chest, feeling sleep pulling at the corners of his mind. He couldn't sleep, though. Not yet, "You've got a lot going on and somehow you're still.. always smiling, making jokes and caring about everyone else more than you do yourself with your.. endless reckless antics."

She laughed, "I don't know, Danse. I guess it feels better to focus on other things, and to see what's good rather than what's, uh, trying to kill or kidnap you."

"I suppose I can understand that, " He stifled a yawn, wishing he could continue talking to her about, well, anything through the night. 

"Mhmm.." Quinn barely nodded her head, also struggling to keep herself awake.

"Get some sleep, alright? I've kept you awake long enough."

"Nuh-uh," She shook her head, the movement slowing as she continued her slide into the fade.

Danse chuckled, taking a quiet moment to study her peaceful face. It truly did amaze him how well she was dealing with her trials. She was impatient, fiery and fearless to a damn fault, but she was managing. Somehow, she was managing. He'd spent years training to become the best soldier and, hell, he'd done it. Even so, he knew he didn't have the same ability to withstand the crushing weight of a changing existence like she could.

Which is why he had to..

Closing his eyes, he spoke again even though he was certain she'd fallen asleep, "Thank you, Quinn."

She murmured something unintelligible and then she fell silent, her breathing telling him she was out. Danse listened to her for awhile, the sound almost comforting enough to erase the despair he felt. 

Danse very slowly and carefully climbed out of the bed, keeping an eye on Quinn to see if she'd stir. She remained dead to the world while he slipped his boots back on, and as his weight was lifted from the bed. 

He was thankful he had good night vision; he could see her clearly. Stepping off that vertibird with Garvey and meeting her stirred up a lot within himself, most of which he couldn't pin down if he had the time to try. But he couldn't fool himself. He was a synth and nothing he "felt" was real. It was all some kind of program. All codes. Just ones and zeroes. 

If he were human, then just maybe...

He wasn't, though. He was a dangerous synthetic man. What if the Institute could reprogram him remotely? The idea of the Broken Mask incident happening in Sanctuary made him sick. His life was devoted to helping and protecting civilians from the irresponsible technology he was made up of.

Danse sighed, removing the Brotherhood holotags from his neck. The last thing he had that connected him to the man he thought he was. Placing the tags on the nightstand, he left them in the care of the only person who still made him feel human- despite the fact that it was a well built lie. 

He left Sanctuary hoping he was someone Quinn would want to remember in the days to come, and if he were lucky, long after his death sentence had been carried out. 

It was time for Danse to face his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The writing is a bit disjointed, but it's intentional! I wanted to try to convey Danse's mental state and I hope it worked. <3


	41. Blind Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated a little early again. I've decided that Wednesday will be my hard deadline for posting my chapters, but if I'm done early I'll just post it! I'm always excited to see what you all think of my chapters. Your support has been incredible. Makes me never want to end the adventures of Quinn and her rag-tag team of misfits.

Quinn felt like she was going to be sick.

"Danse?" She held the radio to her mouth, pacing back and forth in her living room anxiously, "Please, Danse. Please respond."

The morning air had already been hinting to another hot day when she'd woken up, but it didn't bother her much; her blood had run ice cold when she'd seen Danse's holotags on her nightstand. 

It was too early for Sanctuary to be bustling and she quietly checked everywhere she could think of for the troubled man. There was no sign of him from the broken picket fences to the waterfront. When she'd returned home, she was walking the line of falling into complete panic. She wasn't an expert, not by any stretch, but she knew Danse had been far too shaken and vulnerable to be alone. Why did he go? Where did he go?

"What the hell is wrong with you Commonwealth men?" She grumbled, noting that this was the second time someone had run off without an explanation. It was becoming old hat quite quickly.

There wasn't a question of it: she had to find him. It was the _how_ that troubled her. The Commonwealth was vast and a quick search wasn't exactly possible, especially with Danse’s exile of the Brotherhood. It was back to walking, or perhaps hitching a ride with a caravan if the timing was right.

It was a long shot, but she grabbed the radio he'd given her and started the long process of trying to get a hold of him. Quinn couldn't recall if he'd had a handheld radio with him when he'd ended up on her doorstep. Channel three was for contacting him directly and she prayed she could reach him, somehow.

A hushed, and unrecognizable voice came through, "Miss. Hardin, is that you?"

Quinn's heart raced, "Yes. Yes, this is. Who is this?"

"Scribe Haylen, Recon Squad Gladius," Her voice was gentle and warm, but most of all, it was concerned.

She wasn't sure how to proceed. If Danse had been kicked out of the Brotherhood, was it wise for her to talk to any of them? Her thumb hovered over the button, words not quite forming.

"Miss. Hardin, are you looking for Danse because of... the news?"

Quinn closed her eyes and pressed on. Something told her Haylen was an ally and she had few options aside from yelling out his name while wandering through the wastes, "Yeah. He came by last night and told me... but he's gone now. Scribe Haylen, he left his holotags behind."

"Oh, no," She sounded as scared as Quinn felt, "That's not good. But, Miss. Hardin, I can't.. I can't help him. You need to."

Quinn felt the smallest twinge of annoyance, "You can't help him?"

"I want to. I do. But I'm aboard the Prydwen and there's no way Maxson would let me or Knight Rhys step foot off the vessel until Danse has been declared dead."

Declared dead?

Quinn's legs felt like they were about to give out on her and she lowered herself down onto the couch, "They want to kill him?"

There was a long pause, "He didn't tell you that, did he?"

"No, he said he was court martialed, stripped of his rank and exiled... not that he was gonna get hunted down," She put a hand over her eyes, closing them tightly in an attempt to hold back the tears that were threatening to build. 

"Damnit. Of course he'd try to carry this all on his own.. Look, Danse had me identify a fallback point if we ever lost our original post. Listening Post Bravo on the northern frontier of the Commonwealth. It's isolated and we're the only ones who knew about it. There's a good chance that's where he's headed."

"Listening Post Bravo? Got it," Quinn tried to breathe evenly, "Thanks, Scribe Haylen."

"No, thank you, Miss. Hardin. Please help him. Machine or not, that’s still Danse. Good luck."

It took Quinn less than five minutes to pack her bag and rush out the door with Dogmeat following after her. She'd used an old map Preston used for his Minutemen dealings to figure out the general area of where she needed to be and prayed Haylen was right. If Danse wasn't there she had no idea how she was supposed to proceed from there. The street remained quiet, and Quinn could tell the settlement was just starting to wake as movement flickered in some of the windows. 

She'd made it to the bridge when a particular testy voice called from behind her, "Where the hell are you running off to alone?"

Exhaling through her nose sharply, Quinn turned to face the voice. MacCready was leaned up against the first house of the street, a half-spent cigarette hanging from his mouth. He was watching her with those intense blue eyes and he didn’t look pleased.

"Danse is.." Quinn wasn't sure what to say about the situation, or really, what to say to MacCready at all, "He's in trouble. I have to help him."

He scoffed, flicking his cigarette to the ground, "The tin man needs help? I thought the Brotherhood trained their soldiers."

"RJ. Please," She raised her hands to ward him away, stepping backwards on to the bridge, "Not right now, alright?"

The air around MacCready changed; he could tell she was serious and unsettled. He pushed off the wall and adjusted the strap of his rifle, stopping next to her, "Alright then. Where are we headed?"

Quinn looked up at him, stuck dead in the middle of wanting to thank him and wanting to tell him where to shove it. Instead, she looked across the bridge to avoid his eyes, "Listening Post Bravo. It's just east of Med-Tek."

"Okay," MacCready nodded, placing another cigarette into his mouth, "Let's go."

"Let's go."

There was a tense silence between them for a solid half hour before either of them made an attempt to speak. Quinn occupied herself with tossing a ball around for Dogmeat and MacCready chain smoked heavier than she’d ever seen before. He was the first to break, starting and stopping his sentence a number of times until he got it out, “Are you gonna fill me in on what’s going on?”

Quinn sighed, whipping the ball ahead of them down the long road, “Danse is a synth.”

MacCready sounded like he almost choked, “Come again?”

“He’s a synth,” She nodded solemnly, “He didn’t even know it. But I guess the Brotherhood found out through their research of the Institute and now he’s up for execution.”

Looking at MacCready, she was surprised to see that he didn’t look smug about it. Instead, he blew out a cloud of smoke, shaking his head, “Damn. That’s a plot twist.”

“Tell me about it,” Quinn shook the ball Dogmeat had returned to her in front of him before tossing it again, “He showed up in the middle of the night and I don’t think I’d ever seen him so… not Danse.”

“Can’t say I’d blame him. Anyone having to find out they’re a synth would probably fu-... mess them up. For someone trained to hate synths that’s gotta be a nightmare,” MacCready stared ahead of them, patting his pocket for his cigarettes, “Kind of ironic, though.”

Quinn narrowed her eyes at MacCready, but she had to admit to herself that it _was_ pretty damn ironic. The Brotherhood was an, undeniably, bigoted faction with ideals that she knew she could never agree with or get behind, and if it weren’t Danse she might even find some joy in the karma of it all. It was clear that he lived and breathed by the code he was taught, but Quinn didn’t want to believe that Danse was a hateful person. She couldn’t lie to herself and say she knew for sure. All she knew was that she didn’t think Danse deserved to die.

“I just hope we can find him before he does anything stupid, or before the Brotherhood finds him,” Quinn passed the ball to MacCready with her sore throwing arm, careful their hands didn’t meet, “I woke up and he was gone. He left his holotags behind. I don’t think he’s expecting to come back- one way or another.”

MacCready’s composed mask twitched, “You woke up and he was gone?”

He didn’t have to say it because Quinn could sense the underlying question of whether or not Danse was there when she fell asleep. They looked at one another and Quinn spoke simply, “Yeah.”

The mercenary looked away and busied himself with removing another cigarette from the rapidly emptying pack. There was too much going on and too much to worry about for Quinn to want to open the door of MacCready's misplaced jealousy and she joined him in the silence instead.

They’d made it to Listening Post Bravo before the noonday sun, the bunker and its surrounding area quiet without a sign of trouble. A sign would have been welcome, though, because neither Quinn or MacCready were prepared for the whirring and burst of laser fire from small turrets above the doorway. 

“Quinn!” MacCready grabbed her by her arm, pulling her against him and diving behind a stack of metal shipping containers. Once they were out of sight, the turrets stopped firing and the two of them were left huddled together, Quinn with her head tucked down and MacCready curled against her like a shield.

Letting his breathing return to normal, he leaned his head back to get a look at her, “Are you alright?”

Quinn’s chest hurt from her pounding heart, her hands moving to hold on to MacCready’s forearms to keep herself steady. Dogmeat whined and edged in closer to them, making his concern for them known.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” She nodded, letting the adrenaline spike settle back down. They didn’t separate, looking at one another in silence. 

He nodded in return, his hand settled over her shoulder- thumb running against her collarbone, “Okay. Good.”

“I, uh..” Clearing his throat, they pulled away from one another in unison and he readied his rifle, “I’ll take care of those turrets.”

Quinn let him do what he needed to do, taking a deep breath to center herself. Being close to MacCready still did strange, tumultuous things to her and she needed to focus on what was important: Danse’s safety.

Two high-powered gunshots rang out and MacCready lowered himself back into a crouch next to her, pressing the butt of the rifle to the ground to hold his balance. He was composed again, wearing the mercenary MacCready mask and speaking less casually than she was used to, “By the looks of it, this place hasn’t been occupied in a long while. The active turrets tell me someone’s in there now and they’re expecting hostile company. I’d bet a lot of caps that it’s Danse.”

He turned his head to look over his shoulder, his expert eyes scanning their surroundings, “Go inside with Dogmeat and get Danse if he’s in there. Any sign of trouble and you come right back out. Understood?”

Quinn nodded, “Understood.”

“Okay,” MacCready stood back up, adjusting the scope on his rifle. Must have been a new addition; Quinn didn’t recognize it, “I’ll stay out here and keep watch. I don’t want us all to get cornered if it comes down to it.”

Whistling at Dogmeat, she raised her handgun and made her way into the building. She stepped slowly and carefully as to not make a sound, peering around corners before moving onward. MacCready was right- the place wasn’t in proper use for what looked like years. Thick layers of dust had settled over everything, desks and filing cabinets left in disarray. The skeletons of unfortunate soldiers set a scene that told her they were working until the bitter end.

Dogmeat unexpectedly barked and Quinn jumped, letting out a groan as the dog bolted away and into a room down the hall. She hissed at him to come back, holding her gun at the ready and walking as quickly and silently after him as she could.

Walking into the room, she lowered her gun at the sight of a man kneeling next to Dogmeat and scratching at the scruff of his neck. Thick, dark hair and shoulders broad as a barn. It was Danse.

He looked up and met Quinn’s gaze, immediately standing up and straightening out. His expression was of poorly hidden remorse, “Quinn.”

“Danse, what the hell?” Her temper flared faster than she could tell herself to contain it, stomping across the room towards him and holstering her weapon.

Danse sighed heavily, both of his huge hands smoothing back through his hair while he tried to collect his words, “Quinn. I’m sorry, I truly am.”

Quinn was on the verge of shedding tears, something that happened involuntarily when she was angry enough. Her hand balled into a fist and she hit him on the chest with the side of it, “Sorry doesn’t cut it! You went fucking missing this morning and as if that wasn’t panic inducing enough, I found out you were somewhere getting hunted down by the Brotherhood _all alone_!”

Those tears were trailing down, a mix of anger and relief overwhelming her. Danse’s brows were furrowed and he looked somewhat disoriented speaking to her hardly above a whisper, “I know. I know it wasn’t kind of me to do that to you… There’s a lot going on in my head, Quinn. I can’t believe I didn’t know… It feels like a cruel joke. I remember being a child, growing up in the ruins…”

He was pacing the room, “I suppose they programmed that all into my head. I mean, I feel like I’ve been in control of my entire life, making my own decisions and determining my own fate. Even though the proof states I’m a synth, I… don’t feel any different than I did before. I still feel like a human. I don't understand.”

“I told you, Danse. You think. You feel. You might as well be human,” Quinn’s voice wavered, rubbing at the tears in her eyes. 

He stopped to look at her with the saddest brown eyes she'd ever seen, crossing the room back to her. Danse reached up to touch her face, but decided against it and lowered his hand promptly, ”Why does any of this matter to you? I’m only a machine.”

Quinn was furious at his inquiry, “How could you even ask me that, Danse? Why does it matter? I told you that I didn’t care if you were a synth and I meant that. I don’t care. I don’t think of you any differently. I’m here because I was worried about you.”

“Look, I’m not blind to the fact that we’re friends and this must be difficult for you, but… I wish that you didn’t come here, Quinn,” He was torn, looking away from her tear-stained face, “Even so, it doesn’t change a thing. I’m a synth, which means I need to be destroyed. Synths can’t be trusted. Machines were never meant to make their own decisions, they need to be controlled. Technology that’s run amok is what brought the entire world to its knees and humanity to the brink of extinction.”

Danse’s jaw stiffened, “I need to be the example, not the exception.”

“No,” She shook her head, her bottom lip quivering, “No. You don’t feel that way. You ran from the Brotherhood.”

“The moment I learned the truth, I knew my life was in danger. I’m a soldier so self preservation kicked in. I… needed to regroup and assess the situation. Once I got here and I had some time to think, I realized I just made everything worse. I should have stayed on the Prydwen and accepted my fate.”

“You’re wrong!” Quinn closed the space between them again, her hands grabbing his desperately, “Everything you’ve shown me and what you’re expressing now… it’s all human emotion. All you’ve ever done is help me and help others! You can’t believe it would be better for you to let them kill you!”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’ve made my decision, Quinn.” He put his free hand over hers, rubbing her knuckles before stepping back, “I’m ready to accept the consequence of my true identity.”

“I can’t let you do this,” Quinn was shaking her head again, her stomach dropping. Danse wasn’t going to die. He couldn’t, “Isn’t there any way out of this? Can’t I.. Can't I change your mind?”

“I think we both know that this is the right thing to do.”

“No. Fuck no. I’m not gonna let you get executed by some assholes who lack any fucking empathy. There's _nothing_ right about this!”

Danse looked her in the eye until he found the words he needed, sounding mystified, “I can’t believe you’d risk your life for me. Why would you do that?”

“What do you mean risk my life?”

“If Maxson finds out you’re assisting me, he’ll mark you as an enemy of the Brotherhood. Why would you risk that?”

Quinn chuckled sadly, tears still streaming down her cheeks, “I lost my entire life, Danse. All of it. Not only was is blown to fucking smithereens, it was wiped from my mind completely. I don’t want to lose a friend, too.”

She let out a small sob, choking out a laugh, "Besides, I already have the two worst factions on my ass, why not add another? I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck about the Brotherhood or their support if they expect me to stand aside and let them kill you.”

Danse was at a loss for words and Quinn continued with increasingly frantic words, “Please don’t do this. Give yourself a chance. You have to give yourself a cha-”

She couldn’t continue, sobs shaking her slumped shoulders. She was terrified for Danse's future, unable to accept the fate he wanted to choose. Dogmeat let loose a mournful howl, his paw scratching at her boot.

Strong hands grasped her shoulders and she looked up to see the slightest smile on Danse’s face, “You really are so stubborn, Quinn.”

“That’s the consensus,” She sniffled, blinking up at him with wide, wet eyes. 

There was still conflict in his face and she could see it clear as day, his brow creased. Danse wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his chest while she tried unsuccessfully to stop her hysteria. She was murmuring that he needed to reconsider and that he couldn't give up when he spoke again, “...Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.”

Quinn wiped the tears from her face, looking at him with an expression that asked him if he meant it. He returned her gaze and nodded slowly, trying his best to look reassuring. She could feel the tension around Danse and she knew she hadn't convinced him entirely, but she planned to help him every step of the way. He deserved to feel worthy of life.

By the time they’d reached the exit, she’d dried her eyes and managed to calm herself down. She’d felt somewhat embarrassed at her inability to contain how distraught she was, allowing their walk back out to remain silent. What do you say to someone after absolutely losing it in front of them, anyway?

“How _dare_ you betray the Brotherhood?” A booming voice almost made Quinn leap out of her skin, her heart skipping a beat.

A man in a long, brown aviator’s coat stood a couple meters ahead of them, his expression the closest thing Quinn could describe to as pure rage. She made note of the laser rifle he held at his side, his finger hovering dangerously close to the trigger.

Danse shook his head, “It’s not her fault, it’s mine, Arthur.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Quinn found her voice, her eyes sweeping the area quickly for MacCready.

If she’d thought the man couldn’t possibly look more pissed, she was wrong, “I’m Elder Maxson and you will address me with respect.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” She hoped she sounded much more confident than she was feeling, racking her brain for any possible way this didn't end in the both of them dying, “How the hell did you find us?”

Maxson’s voice was a growl, “With Danse’s… loyalty to you, I suspected you had something to do with this. We lost track of him, but we used you to lead us right to him.”

Quinn glanced at Danse apologetically. She'd only wanted to make sure he was safe and managed to lead the Brotherhood to his safe place. Danse shook his head, his hand touching her elbow. She turned her attention back to Maxson, her stomach sinking to that uncomfortably low place once again. There was no sign of MacCready and she was beginning to fear the worst. Maxson could have gotten the jump on him and incapacitated him. Or worse...

“What did it say to you to trick you into thinking it deserves compassion?” Maxson closed in enough to halve the distance between them, both Quinn and Danse tensing.

She resisted the need to start shouting for the mercenary, a new wave of anxiety knotting in her stomach, “Danse _does_ deserve compassion. I didn’t need anyone to convince me of that, Maxson.”

“Danse isn’t a man, it’s a machine,” Maxson spat out his words, “An Automaton created by the Institute. It wasn’t born from the womb of a loving mother, it was grown with the cold confines of a laboratory. Flesh is flesh. Machine is machine. The two were never meant to intertwine. By attempting to play God, the Institute has taken the sanctity of human life and corrupted it beyond measure!”

“After all I’ve done for the Brotherhood..” Danse’s voice walked a line between disappointment and anger.

“You’re the physical embodiment of what we hate the most. Technology that’s gone too far.”

Quinn snapped back in spite of knowing they were in enough trouble, “Danse has done nothing but carry out your orders and you turned on him instantly. He dedicated his life to the Brotherhood!”

“Is that what it told you? How can you trust the word of a machine that thinks it’s alive?”

Her disdain for Maxson consumed her, easily blanketing over the healthy fear she had been feeling, “Oh, and I’m supposed to trust you? You’re just some wasteland Nazi who wants to eradicate anything and everything he doesn’t like. Your ideals are garbage, Maxson.”

Again, she pushed Maxson to get even angrier, raising his rifle at Quinn, “I don’t intend to debate this any longer.”

Quinn balled her hands into fists, barely willing herself not to flinch. Dogmeat lowered himself to the ground and let out a vicious growl to warn the Brotherhood leader. Danse had begun to move in front of her, but before he could, a red dot appeared on Maxson’s chest. 

A sardonic voice came somewhere from behind them and Quinn's heart nearly sang in response, “Wrong _fucking_ move, Maxson. Take her out of your sights or I blow a fucking hole through your chest.”

Maxson froze. Grinding his teeth together, he let out a frustrated groan and dropped his arm, “All of this for a synth? Fools.”

“High tail it out of here, bud,” MacCready was firm and Quinn could tell he was scowling “The tin man ain’t your problem.”

Danse took a step towards Maxson, putting his hands up enough to show he wasn’t armed, “Arthur. You know Miss. Hardin is actively working against the Institute and she’s never done a thing to betray the Brotherhood. I promise you she had no idea I was a synth. Can't the common enemy enough be for now? Do we all have to fight each other while the Institute continues their atrocities against humanity? This could end in bloodshed where either we die, or you die and that only means the Institute will have less resistance.”

Maxson’s expression didn’t change, but he did nod curtly, glancing down at the red mark on his chest, “I suppose you raise a point. There is worse _filth_ to contain.”

Quinn forced herself not to reply thoughtlessly, “I know you’ll never change your tune about non-humans so I won’t waste my breath. But Danse is right. We’ve got way bigger problems to deal with. Let him go. He’ll come with us.”

Maxson’s jaw remained set firm and he stepped back, “The terms are… acceptable. Whether or not we can continue an alliance against the Institute has yet to be decided. I’ll need time to.. consider.”

With one last scrutinizing look at the three of them, Maxson turned and walked away. None of them made a motion to move until he was out of sight and as soon as he was, Quinn's whole body loosened and she let out a long, shaking breath. 

MacCready jumped down from his perch and walked over to her, his rifle resting on his shoulder. He looked ready to chew into her and it was unexpected when his voice came out much more concerned than mad, "I know it's stupid coming from me, but you've gotta check that temper, short stuff. Christ. Maxson was ready to fu-fricken blow you away."

“It took a hell of a lot of guts to stand up to Maxson like that,” Danse peeled his eyes away from where his former comrade disappeared, his shoulders losing their rigidity.

“Friends take care of one another,” Quinn looked back and forth between her companions with a shaky smile; she was still on edge from the standoff with Maxson and her knees felt weak.

Danse was looking at her again with intrigue. The poor guy didn't seem to understand a damn thing she did, like he could never figure out what to make of her. He nodded and put a hand on her back, ushering her towards the road back to Sanctuary along with MacCready and Dogmeat, “That they do.”


	42. Learning Curve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for stopping by! <3 
> 
> Fun news: I'm still working on finishing this story, but I'm also working on rebuilding it from the ground up! I'm going to be rewriting it (eventually) with longer chapters, more details to make it easier for non-Fallout readers to understand the story (I think it'll really test my franchise knowledge which would be fun!), etc etc. I'm considering this my major labour of love to Fallout and I want to make it awesome. I feel like I've grown in my writing from the start to now and I want to feel like the entire work is my best.
> 
> Also, a random question I'm curious about: are you guys fans of the whole franchise, or only 4? If it's the whole franchise, what's your favourite installment? Mine is Fallout 3 story wise and New Vegas gameplay wise. 4 was a weaker game in a lot of ways but the companions hooked me big time!

A breeze rolled along the Commonwealth and another long heatwave had finally been broken. Quinn gingerly walked down the road leading to the Red Rocket, careful to avoid the cracks and dips in the cement for the sake of what she held in her hand. She stopped at the line where the thoroughfare met the property line of the truck stop, the area almost unrecognizable since she’d seen it the day before. The broken junk and strewn garbage had disappeared, the overgrown dry grass pulled from the strange places it had poked out from. Even the rusted cars she was used to walking by had been pushed away from the area.

“Hey, Danse?” Quinn poked her head into the building, noting that the interior had been cleaned up as thoroughly as the exterior. Stepping inside, she turned to the right to peer into the doorway of the garage. The former Paladin was in there with his back turned to her, sitting at a weapons bench and examining his laser rifle closely. Strewn on the work surface were numerous tools and a carefully placed lineup of gun parts. Danse was intently focused on his task at hand, his foot tapping along to the beat of a song Quinn wasn’t sure she recognized. Not wanting to scare him, she knocked on the frame of the door.

He suddenly sat straight, his shoulders tightening underneath the white undershirt he wore. Once he’d recognized her, his posture relaxed and he set the rifle back down onto the bench, “Quinn. Good morning.”

Quinn smiled at him and walked across the garage to him, carefully moving around neatly organized stacks of crates and piles of scrap. She extended her arm out to him and offered him the mug of coffee in her hand; she had a feeling Danse wasn’t sleeping well, “Here.”

Danse looked surprised, but he accepted the mug with a tired smile, “Thank you. You really didn’t have to walk all the way over here with that.”

Pulling up another stool from the side of the workbench, Quinn sat next to him and chuckled, “You’re only saying that because the coffee sucks.”

“Well,” Danse took a long drink from the cup, his brows furrowing as he struggled through it. He cringed, which made Quinn laugh. 

“If you weren’t fully awake before, you probably are now from the taste alone,” She patted him on his forearm, taking a quick glance around the room, “...Which I’m certain you needed. You did a fuck ton since yesterday.”

“I’ve been doing my best to keep busy. It helps me feel…” Danse moved his hands to conjure up the word, “Balanced, I suppose.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to stay occupied if you didn’t hole yourself up here by yourself?” Quinn asked as gently as she could, not wanting to make Danse feel pressured or uncomfortable. He wasn’t a ticking time bomb she feared, but she did know he was constantly on a rickety fence between being okay and very much not.

Danse was abruptly focused on the ceramic mug before him, “They wouldn’t want to have a synth around. They don’t deserve that, either.”

“Hey,” Quinn leaned down so she could meet his gaze, “That’s not true on either accounts.”

He sighed, his brown eyes unmoving from the depths of his coffee, “I don’t know how to believe that, Quinn.”

Putting her hand over the mug, she slid it over to herself and silently demanded he look at her, “Why?”

Danse hesitated, but he finally allowed himself to look up, “I’m a creation. Everything that I am was made- the way I look, the way I act, the way I think… It’s manufactured and I don’t feel like I can stray away from that.”

Quinn frowned, her heart feeling heavy for him, “I don’t want to believe that.”

“I know,” He said with a half-hearted chuckle, “But it it is what it is.”

She shook her head, “Danse, we don’t know your story. You could be a runaway from the Institute that was given a new personality, you could be an exact copy of someone who existed.”

He finally looked away, beginning to fiddle with the laser rifle again, “Or I could have been planted into the Brotherhood by the Institute themselves. A spy. Perhaps even an assassin.”

“And _I’m_ the stubborn one,” Quinn spoke with enough humour so he could tell she wasn’t upset with him, once again interrupting him and pushing down the weapon he preoccupied himself with, “Look, Danse. I know you’re feeling… a lot. And there’s so much of it that I could never understand, but none of this is going to change my tune. You can be as self doubting as you want, and so certain that you’re bad and I won’t believe it for a hot second.”

Danse didn’t reply- something she was growing used to. He’d been juggling more emotions and thoughts than he could possibly manage and she felt that she threw him for a loop sometimes. She moved her hand from the rifle and put her hand over his in reassurance, “You’re stuck right now and that’s okay, Danse. But I _know_ that you’re capable of change. Between the moment I met you and the day you left to go back to the Prydwen- you changed. Maybe not in some profound way, but you did. And since you found out… you’ve changed a lot. You’re different and there isn’t any damn way that you can convince me that you’re hopeless.”

At some point while she spoke, his other hand moved to cover hers, “Thank you, Quinn.”

Her face felt warm and she hoped to God she wasn’t blushing, laughing softly and deciding it was her turn to stare intently at Danse’s coffee, “Don’t thank me, dummy. Just.. when you feel this way, think about how humans are. We have terrible habits and traits that we have to work on fixing..”

Once she was certain she wasn’t pink, she grinned up at him, “It’s like my recklessness. It’s part of who I am, but I could change it… If I wanted to, anyways.”

Danse laughed and Quinn beamed up at him; she felt victorious. He shrugged and looked at her curiously, “While I _do_ wish you’d take better care of yourself, I have to admit that your… utter carelessness does have its charm.”

“If you say so,” Quinn snorted, hopping off the stool and heading towards the door. Unfortunately for Danse, she still had a grasp on his hand and she was pulling him with her, “Come on, it’s beautiful out! You can’t hide in here all day.”

He uttered a string of unfinished attempts at resisting, but it didn’t take long for him to accept his fate. Quinn pulled him over to a ratty couch that sat in the shade of the truck stop’s coolant filling stations, quick to drop down and make herself comfortable. Danse shook his head at her, his mouth twitching with the urge to chuckle and he sat down next to her, “Pleased?”

Quinn nodded, smiling from ear to ear obnoxiously, “Sure am.”

Danse rested his elbows on his knees, falling silent and looking out absentmindedly out to the top of the Concord buildings poking up in the distance. She joined him, but found herself glancing over at him. His expression was tense, his lips set into a grim line. Poor guy.

Quinn slid her foot over and nudged the side of his, “Hey. Where’d ya go?”

Danse blinked and turned his attention over to her, “I apologize. I suppose I was thinking about the time you came from. What was is like back then?”

“Hmm,” She hugged her knees to herself, sitting so she could face him completely, “What do you wanna know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me.”

Her brain turned over a few times while she mulled over what she could tell him. She’d stopped actively thinking about the past as much as she could; it was gone so why bother? And as much as she had grown used to life in the wasteland, it still made her heart ache to think about how life used to be.

“It was completely different while also being the same in pretty big ways,” Quinn laughed at Danse’s confused face, “At the end of the day, everyone spent a lot of time going through the motions to get to the next one. Surviving was always the goal- it was just less dangerous? People didn’t have to walk out their door and wonder if they were gonna get mauled by some fucked up creature.”

Quinn tapped her chin, not knowing how to continue; she felt foolish sitting in the middle of the ruined world and comparing it to what it used to be, “I don’t know. When I say everything out loud it makes it sound like I’m complaining about some kind of utopia.”

“Maybe it’s all relative. What’s difficult and what’s not depends on what you’re used to?” Danse thought hard on his words as he spoke them, ending his sentence with a shrug.

“I guess you’re right,” She nodded and she idly looked just beyond Danse, her mind trailing off somewhere familiar, “It was all about working, paying bills, obsessing over social media and satisfying a need to be seen and heard and validated. Technology was so focused on keeping us all connected but it was lonely. Really lonely.”

Quinn shook her head and when she focused back on Danse he was looking at her intently. She realized what a specific train of thought that was and then…

“I think…? I think that came from my old life?” She closed her eyes and tried to reach for that tendril of thought, but it’d disappeared into the endless darkness in her mind. 

When she opened her eyes, she sighed quietly. It was gone. Whatever it was, that semblance of what it _felt_ like to be who she used to, it faded. Danse moved with hesitation, putting a hand on her knee, “Are you alright?”

Not really, but he didn’t need to feel sorry for her in the state he was in, right?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” She put a smile on her face, hoping she could continue to ignore how her eyes had begun to sting, “It hasn’t happened much.. Hardly a handful of times, where I remember something about myself. Throws me off, but I’m fine.”

Quinn kept her knees hugged to her chest and Danse’s hand slid down to hold her calf, giving it a squeeze, “Okay.”

She rested the side of her face against the top of her knees and smiled again- this time, while he comforted her, it felt a little more real, “Okay.”

“Quinn. Danse,” Preston’s voice carried over to them from the main road and both of them recoiled away from one another, “Concord’s all clear!”

“Yay!” Quinn raised her hands with her thumbs up and Preston grinned in reply. The Minuteman had left early in the morning to do a sweep of Concord for raiders. It was a popular spot for them to hole up and Preston didn’t want them anywhere near the growing settlement. She could have sworn he’d taken..

On que, MacCready walked up the road with his hands tucked deep into his duster pockets, a freshly lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. Quinn had to wonder how he could run for as long and as hard as he did because he smoked like a chimney. He wasn’t wearing his hat, his brown hair pushed back and a little messy. The kind of messy Quinn wanted to run her fingers through. He stopped next to Preston and took awhile to finally look over at her and Danse. He was too far for her to read his expression entirely, but she knew it well. It was his mercenary mask and he almost always wore it to conceal something. She looked at Danse and then back to him, a strange feeling of guilt settling in her stomach. 

Quinn swallowed, her mouth dry, “I, uh, didn’t hear gunshots. I’m guessing it was still quite from the last run?”

“Sure was,” Preston nodded and rested his laser musket over his shoulder. MacCready had already turned his attention away from any of them, continuing his way back to Sanctuary. Glancing over at him, Preston tipped his hat to Quinn and Danse, “I’ll see you two later?”

“Wait up! I’ll walk with you,” She looked at Danse and smiled, “I’m gonna head back up. I wanna talk to Preston about some settlement stuff. I know you don’t want to come with… but you’re always welcome. I’ll stop by again later.”

Danse nodded, “You don’t need to do that, Quinn.”

Chuckling, she waved a dismissive hand back at him and started over to Preston, “Yeah, yeah. But I’m gonna.”

Quinn grinned at Preston and quickened her pace over to him. Once she stood next to him, she bumped her shoulder against his arm, “So Concord was a breeze, huh?”

He adjusted his hat and smiled down at her, “Sure was. I think if patrols are done regularly- we can keep it free of trouble. Who knows, maybe some point down the road Concord can be cleaned up and become part of Sanctuary.”

Preston glanced behind his shoulder to look towards the ruined town, his voice hopeful, “Imagine that.”

Seeing her friend optimistic was the kind of change Quinn could get used to. The cloud hanging over his head hadn’t disappeared, but it was smaller. Small enough that it didn’t have the very air around the Minuteman feeling tense. Helping him find his feet again was important to her and she’d refuse to feed his insecurities; she knew his worth the day she met him and he was willing to die protecting his people. 

“Ahhh, so the General has big plans for the Commonwealth!”

Preston chuckled, “You could say that, I suppose.”

They crossed the bridge to Sanctuary and made their way to his home. They settled in at the kitchen table, Preston grabbing them beers while she cautiously glanced around for MacCready. No sign of the brooding merc. She only had a moment to ponder whether or not what she’d seen earlier was a glimmer of jealousy before the sound of glass on the table brought her back to reality.

She missed when the beers were always ice cold, “So, General Preston Garvey of the Commonwealth Minutemen. What’s your plan?”

Clinking his bottle against hers, he leaned back in his chair, “With our numbers growing, I’d say it’s high time we start doing what we were always meant to do: assist and protect the people. We can’t do it on a large scale, not yet, and I _do_ want to keep training of the force a high priority… but, Radio Freedom has had letters coming in on caravans with people asking for our help. I can’t ignore that.”

“In the wise, stiff words of Danse: field experience is key,” Quinn raised her glass before taking a long swig of the warm liquid.

“The man’s right,” Preston cleared his throat and sat forward, lowering his voice, “And, about Danse…?”

It took Quinn a few beats to process what her friend was implying and once she did, she laughed uneasily, “What about Danse?”

“Oh. Um, I didn’t mean to pry,” He mirrored her laugh.

Quinn snorted, “Hey, you’re my bestie. I’ll tell you anything.”

Preston’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Bestie?”

“My best friend!”

“Ah, I see,” He laughed, looking bashful, “I’m honoured.”

“This is where you’re supposed to tell me I’m your best friend, too, Preston,” She narrowed her eyes in mock scrutiny, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don’t think I have to. You might be my first true friend since before Quincy, Quinn,” His face told her he was speaking honestly and she smiled at him.

They returned to drinking their beers, a lull in conversation passing before Quinn sighed and rested her elbows on the table, “I don’t know what’s happening with Danse. And it doesn’t really matter right now, anyways. He’s fucked up from finding out he’s a synth… poor guy.”

“And me?” She chuckled sadly, “Saying I’m hung up on RJ would be the understatement of the year.” 

Quinn groaned and leaned in to hit her head against the table gently, “Getting broken up with sucks. Did I even get broken up with? It’s not like we had like.. A talk about things. Is this just what ya’ll wastelanders are like?”

She heard Preston laugh softly at her tangent, “Hey now, don’t lump us all in on account of MacCready’s poor decision making skills.”

“Did someone say poor decision making skills? I’ve got that in spades.”

Preston and Quinn turned their attention to the doorway, Hancock’s mischievous grin greeting him. He was leaning against the frame, his arms crossed casually across his chest, “Ya’ll really just left my ass sitting at Goodneighbour all by my lonesome. That’s cold.”

Quinn grinned widely at the ghoul, “Aren’t you a badass loner, John?”

“That’s besides the point,” He winked at her and tipped his hat at Preston, “How’s it goin’, Garvey? I heard you’re top of the ladder now.”

Preston nodded as he drank the last of his beer, “Protecting the people at a minutes notice. Give or take.”

The three of them laughed at that and Quinn got up from her chair, “I’m gonna go home for a bit and check on Dogmeat. Wanna walk me over, John?”

“Happy to, doll.”

Quinn waved to Preston and walked out the door first at Hancock’s insistence, giggling as he bowed to her. Turning to face him, another involuntary smile crossed her face, “What brings you to Sanctuary Hills? We’re no Goodneighbour.”

“Ah, you know how it is,” He waved a hand casually, “I was getting too cozy there. The most interesting thing I’ve done in years is clearing out those Gunners outside the gates.”

“Soooo you figured you’d come to the post-apocalyptic suburbia?” Quinn laughed and motioned around them. The settlement had long since woken up and everyone was about their business. Sturges was hammering away at something nearby and the Longs were walking by with a basket full of freshly picked vegetables. 

Hancock chuckled gruffly, “Goodneighbor don’t need me. Not right now, anyways. Fahrenheit can keep things running smoothly while I’m gone.”

“I needed to hit the road again,” He shrugged, “Gotta hone my edge again, ya feel?”

Having watched him stab a man to death in the streets, Quinn could say with all honestly that she didn’t understand at all. She figured Hancock was sharp as a whip. Holding him by the bend of his arm, she started across the street to her house, “You’re always welcome here, John.”

“Thanks, doll,” Hancock opened the front door for her, pushing it open, “We’ll catch up later, alright? I’ve got a bone to pick with someone.”

Before Quinn could catch his arm again, he was out of reach and heading off down the street. She knew exactly who he was looking for. 

“Oh boy,” She groaned softly and stepped into her house, deciding it wasn’t her place to step into the middle of that. 

Besides, the idea of MacCready getting reamed out didn’t sound so terrible. Even a punch. Maybe two.

The moment she entered the living room, Dogmeat barked happily and jumped up on to her, his paws clawing at her with excitement. She stumbled back and giggled, warding the dog off and scratching at the fur around his neck, “Hey, boy. Sorry I kept you cooped up.”

Dogmeat barked and nipped at the air in reply.

“Can I make it up to you with a….?” Quinn bent down to look closely at the hound, her sentence drawing out and causing his ears to perk, “Walk?”

She had to jump back to avoid his pounce and she laughed again, and walked back out into the hot wasteland air.

They’d made it close to the bridge leading out of the settlement when Quinn was stopped by the sound of a raised voice. 

Hancock’s voice boomed from the last house on the left, “You don’t have a fucking clue what you did to that girl, do you?!”

Quinn was heading back in the direction she came from when her feet froze underneath her. She wanted to hear this. 

She needed to.

She closed her eyes and took a long breath, quietly edging closer to the house. Dogmeat, the ever faithful partner, lowered himself closer to the ground and crept along with her. Crouching down, she leaned back against the outer wall underneath the window.

His voice was still angry, but Hancock had gotten a handle on his volume, “Look. I need answers from you.”

It was MacCready’s turn to pipe up, his tone matching the ghoul’s, “How is it any of your business, Hancock?”

“ _You_ made her safety my business- a responsibility I didn’t think twice about taking,” There was a pause, the sound of what Quinn assumed was a beer being placed heavy handedly back down on to a table, “And her _walking across the Commonwealth_ to Goodneighbour with nothing but a goddamn handgun and her dog doesn’t come across as goddamn safe, does it, MacCready?”

MacCready’s tone softened, “She what?”

“You heard me right,” Hancock sighed heavily, “She showed up at the Old State House in the middle of the fucking night crying- after you did whatever the fuck it is you did.”

“This is why she’s better off without me…” MacCready’s voice trailed off.

Quinn wished she could interject and ask him what the hell he was talking about, chewing on her bottom lip to stop herself.

“You know, it’s nothing short of a miracle a girl like her wants anything to do with the likes of any of us- especially us two thugs- so for her to want to bump uglies is beyond any kind of rhyme or reason and you threw that out.”

Bump uglies? Quinn groaned as quietly as she could, putting her hand over her face in the embarrassment she felt by proxy. 

Another sigh, “MacCready, I know you better than most people out here. Probably only second to Quinn. You ending things with her? It doesn’t make any fucking sense. Not only is she painfully out of your league, kid, but you were happy. _You_ , the same fucking idiot who was drinking himself blind down at The Third Rail to drown his misery less than a year ago.”

“I know I was happy!” MacCready shouted, a loud sound nearly making Quinn jump to her feet as something was knocked over, “You think I don’t fu..fricken know that?”

“Well?” Quinn imagined Hancock had raised a hand to say “please place your excuse here”.

“I didn’t want to. I had to. It’s better this way, Hancock.”

Her eyes stinging, she raised a hand to rub at them and stop herself from shedding tears. What the hell was MacCready talking about?

“MacCready, lay off the cryptic, moody bad boy shit. Just talk to me.”

There was a long silence, Quinn shifting on her burning calves, and then the mercenary spoke again, “Do you really think I’d ever want to break things off with her? Have you _met_ her? It just.. It has to be this way. She’s better off. She’s..”

Quinn closed her eyes tightly, trying her best to focus on his quieting voice. Another long silence stretched on and she decided she’d heard enough. Her legs ached, not to mention the hole in her chest. She moved out from under the window, slowly raising herself back up to a stand with a grimace. Shaking out her legs, she tapped her thigh to get Dogmeat’s attention. He padded over to her and she smiled at him sadly, “Let’s go, pal.”

Avoiding looking into the window of the house, she walked by as casually as she could muster, her attention focused on her four-legged companion. There was more than ever going on in in her head- the exact opposite of what she was hoping to get from eavesdropping. Preston was right about MacCready not wanting to leave, but that only meant one thing: now she knew he was keeping something big from her. Showed her right for snooping, she supposed.

Full of a nauseating swirl of thoughts and jagged emotions, Quinn walked across the bridge to check on Danse.


	43. Another Settlement Needs Your Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Another early post- although kinda not really because I'm gonna be switching the one upload a week to Saturdays or Sundays instead! I figure posting on the weekend would be better because I'll have the quiet after I work during the weekdays to write.
> 
> I'm hoping I can still be nice and timely- I've been having a little bit of a rough time with my mental health. T_T I apologize if I'm ever late!

_Nuka Cola._

That was the colour of Quinn’s hair- like the label of a Nuka Cola. MacCready had never seen hair coloured like that and knew he probably wouldn’t ever again. There was a lot about the woman out of time that were just… unmistakably her. Quinn’s hair was long enough to cover her shoulders and even long enough to touch the small of her back when it was wet. It was thick and curly and goddamn infuriating to try to sleep with when her back was pressed against MacCready’s chest; it was always tickling his face. It was pretty rare for anyone to wear their hair long in the wasteland. Too easy for someone, or something, to grab a hold of. Quinn refused to ever cut it, though, because why would she listen to anyone?

MacCready stifled a sigh and readied another cigarette while he trailed behind Hancock and the redhead on his mind. His grieving heart didn’t detract from how distracting it was to have her ahead of him. Her figure had to have been completely pre-war. There wasn’t anyone wandering the wastes with curves like that- hugged in all the right places in the jeans and t-shirt she wore under her leather armour. 

Clearing his throat and narrowly avoiding his blood rushing south, he popped the cigarette into his mouth and looked away to watch the scenery go by. They were walking to a farm nearby run by a family known as the Abernathys. Preston said they'd requested the Minutemen’s assistance and the trio set off to see what they needed. Both MacCready and Quinn were listening to the mission brief and, for fuck’s sake, expressed interest in going at the same time. Preston had never looked more uncomfortable in his life, but neither MacCready or Quinn were willing to say they weren’t so sure if working together was the best idea. 

Stubborn girl.

So here they were, making their way to the farm in question- Quinn and Hancock laughing together while he hung back a couple paces. He wished he did, but he had no idea how to talk to her, anymore. Since the necessity of their teamwork while tracking down Danse and dealing with Maxson, they’d returned to towing a strange line around one another and Quinn was doing her damndest to pretend that being in the same room didn’t hurt. 

She’d probably prefer to talk to the tin man, anyways.

MacCready scowled at his own thought, very much aware of how stupid it was. He broke her heart without any explanation and, worse, tucked tail and ran. At least Danse had been there to keep her company. It was wondering how _thorough_ the company he provided her that chapped his ass, whether he deserved to feel that way or not. 

“Hold on, I’m gonna let Danse know I’m leaving,” She’d hurried to Red Rocket with Dogmeat bounding after her, oblivious to how both him and Hancock rolled their eyes. 

She entered the open garage and tapped Danse on his shoulder to bring him out of his concentration on the old set of power armour he was fixing up at the request of Sturges. Robo-dude raised the welding mask he wore and he smiled down at her. What an _asshole._

MacCready couldn’t see her expression, but he watched her move strands of stray hair behind her ear as she spoke to him, her other hand tucking into the back pocket of her pants. Standard shy Quinn movements. Danse nodded to whatever it is she said, looking serious again. Her shoulders shook with laughter and she waved her hand at him. She was laughing off his concern, probably, telling him she was going to be fine. MacCready had only known her for around ten months, three of which they were apart, but he knew that girl like the back of his hand.

“See you later, Danse!” Quinn turned around and started back over to them, MacCready noticing that Danse’s eyes were still lingering on her before he lowered his mask again and returned to work.

_What an asshole._

When he pulled his attention away from Danse, he realized that her eyes were on him. She looked away instantly and smiled slightly through her discomfort, “Shall we?”

They were off again and he was back to thinking about anything and everything about Quinn for the remainder of their walk.

The assistance the Abernathys needed sounded easy enough: retrieve a stolen locket from a den of raiders holed up at some military station near that huge quarry east of Sanctuary. Par for the course of his life, it wasn’t the breeze he assumed it would be. There were more raiders than they’d expected and the building had endless corners for enemies to hide behind. Worst of all, it was all close quarters which left his rifle useless. MacCready was a crack shot with any firearm, but he was the most comfortable with long distance shots. He was always too temperamental for close quarter fights- he saw red and it was easier to make mistakes. From yards back, at least he could take a deep breath. 

There was constant gunfire and he was having a hard time concentrating to the best of his ability with Quinn there, the confidence she’d learn to have behind her handgun not keeping him from worrying about her. It was a full time job keeping an eye on her; she was regularly unaware of the way creeps looked at her, reckless enough to annoy even _him_ and her self preservation skills were overshadowed by her fearlessness. Quinn was tough and capable, but the idea of a misstep and a raider getting their hands on her made him grit his teeth. Raiders were twisted with their minds warped beyond repair from the Psycho they were regularly hopped up on and someone like Quinn didn’t stand a chance at their mercy. 

The three of them were tucked behind a desk with their handguns raised, the sound of Dogmeat tearing into someone making MacCready cringe. Glancing to Hancock and then to Quinn, MacCready whispered just loud enough to be heard over the rest of the commotion, “On three, we spread out. Bullets coming from three directions will confuse them and split their attention. Got it?”

His companions nodded and he scanned Quinn’s face once more before they split up. Their shoulders were pressed together and she was in the middle of a calming breath when her eyes met his. He had no idea why, but he grinned down at her and, even more baffling, she smiled back.

Yup. Still head over fucking heels.

“One.. two..” MacCready pointed into the directions he wanted Quinn and Hancock to split to, “Three!” 

He shut down thoughts of Quinn and focused on taking out the last of the raiders, his mind and hands working quickly. It seldom felt like he had to think during combat- it was all instinct at this point. Hard not to be considering he’d had twelve years to become battle hardened. 

“Holy _fuck_!” Hancock shouted from his left, “Uhh, guys! Minigun!”

He didn’t have to tell either of them twice and they all bolted while the tell-tale whirring of the minigun filled the room, coming from a set of double doors the wielder of the gun had kicked open. 

A sharp whistle stole his attention just as he was crossing the doorway behind Hancock. MacCready glanced over his shoulder and saw Quinn calling for Dogmeat’s attention as she ran through the doorway on the other side of the room. The dog followed, his tail disappearing beyond the threshold. MacCready was about to run back when Hancock grabbed him by the lapel and pulled him away from the line of fire.

“Quinn,” MacCready pressed himself against the wall next to the ghoul, both of them training their weapons to the open doorway for any raider who wanted to follow.

His face expressionless, Hancock nodded, “I know. Clear the room, or try that other door and find her first?”

“The room,” MacCready took a breath, telling himself Quinn was going to be perfectly fine. The long string of bullets had stopped, telling him the heavy weapon would need to cool before spinning again, “The less minigun, the better for all of us.”

Hancock chuckled and patted MacCready on the chest firmly before he crouched and darted back into the room they fled from. The mercenary followed, thoughts of Quinn sitting heavily in the back of his mind.

By some miracle, the two men avoided taking any gunshot wounds and definitely not due to a lack of bullets coming their way. Hancock stood over the raider with the minigun, her blonde pigtails spattered with blood from the mess three holes to her head created, “That ain’t pretty.”

MacCready slid a fresh clip into his gun, stepping over the last of the raiders that had poured into the room- blood spattered on his unmoving chest. The dumb fuck brought a baseball bat to a gunfight.

“Come on, let’s find Quinn.”

The station had grown eerily quiet, only the sound of their footsteps echoing through the halls. He had a feeling they’d successfully cleared the den out; the only raiders they ran into were dead. 

“Where did that damn gi-” Hancock started in worried frustration, the rest of his words petering off at the sound of Dogmeat howling. 

Fuck. _Fuck._

MacCready and Hancock broke into a run towards the noise and the closer they got, the harder his heart would beat. The dog’s whine came from a room to the left and he charged in with his gun readied. It was clear of living raiders, three bodies fallen with fresh blood still seeping from their wounds..

They hadn’t been in this room, had they?

Dogmeat barked and howled again, slinking behind a turned over desk with his ears pinned back. Sticking out behind the desk was the combat boot of someone laying on the floor.

MacCready was instantly nauseous, running over to the body. Laying on her side facing away from him was Quinn, her red hair pooled under her head. He dropped down to his knees next to her, turning her over with shaking hands.

In that second, every moment he spent with her flashed before his eyes. From the first time he saw her asleep in that god forsaken vault, to the last smile she gave him. And there was so much in between, the days and nights they spent tangled together, the cute way her mouth pressed together when she was irritated, her hand in his, how deeply and infinitely she cared about the people in her life. How deeply and infinitely she cared about _him_.

“Quinn?” He shook her, glancing up at Hancock who was kneeling on the other side of her. The ghoul’s expression mirrored his own: barely contained panic.

MacCready shook her again, the blood soaking the front of her t-shirt threatening to send him spiralling. The blood was distracting. Where the hell was it coming from?

“Please.. Stop shaking me,” Quinn muttered this, her eyes opening to look up at him.

The relief he felt was indescribable and he couldn’t do anything else but laugh in disbelief, using his thumb to wipe away a streak of dirt from her forehead. She focused on Hancock and they grinned at one another. His expression softened as he pinched her cheek, “Hey, you’re not dead, doll.”

“Nope, but..” Quinn winced, her trembling right hand moving up to hover over her left shoulder, “Why the shoulder again?”

MacCready moved her hand away, able to piece together what was going on with his gut-wrenching fear subsiding. The thick leather shoulder guard she wore had a bullet embedded in it, but just below it was where the blood was pouring from. She had two bullet holes in her shirt- the one just below her armour and another a couple inches lower and distressingly close to her heart. 

He was speechless and overwhelmed with too many emotions. Hancock delicately picked at her shirt to inspect the holes closer, sighing with a chuckle, “I never thought I’d say this… but, doll, you need to cover up. Some heavy leathers. Maybe just some power armour, huh? You can’t scare us like that.”

Hancock helped her sit up and MacCready pressed his hand to her back to assist her, “My heart’s already working double time with all the chems. You trying to give me a heart attack?”

Quinn let out a pained laugh, her voice cracking, “Gotta.. Keep ya’ll on your toes.. You know..?”

“And there she goes,” Hancock sighed again as she slumped back against MacCready’s hand, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Shock, probably,” MacCready found his voice again, his head full of the sound of his heart, “Let’s get her back to Sanctuary. Get the bullets out before we Stim her.”

Dogmeat whined again, sticking his snout between them and licking at Quinn’s face. Hancock patted the top of his head, “It’s okay, pooch. We got her.”

Yeah, almost got her killed.

Trying to keep a straight face, MacCready reached for her gun and holstered it on her thigh before scooping her up in his arms. Poor girl was out like a light. Hancock removed her shoulder guard and used the torn american flag he wore around his waist to help slow her bleeding. Her soft features flinched, barely, and then she went still again. Hancock looked at her with an expression MacCready couldn’t figure out and the ghoul pat him on the back, “Let’s find that locket and get out of this shithole.”

Back at Sanctuary, it took Hancock, Danse and Preston holding Quinn down to keep her still enough for the bullet removal. The first time she’d been shot, the bullet went clean through her- this time she was less fortunate. Her shrieks of pain disturbed MacCready and he had to close his eyes momentarily to center himself before going back to digging into her shoulder with a knife. It didn’t take longer than a minute or two, but it felt like an eternity. Preston administered a Stimpak directly to her shoulder and she whimpered quietly, slowly slipping back into unconsciousness. 

The four men finally let the tension leave their bodies, exhausted from the ordeal. Preston returned his hat to his head, looking relieved it was over, “We should let her rest.”

MacCready wasn’t going anywhere, “You guys can go ahead. I’m gonna stay here awhile.”

Preston and Hancock left the room quietly chatting to one another, the General saying something about getting the locket back to the Abernathys, and though Danse did linger longer than MacCready wanted- he didn’t argue and followed after the other two. 

“She’s gonna be okay, bud,” MacCready smiled at Dogmeat, giving him a scratch under his chin. He whimpered in response, settling over Quinn’s feet. 

Sighing heavily, he sat on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes. Once upon a time, he had the art of clearing his mind mastered.Between working jobs and drinking heavily, MacCready would allow himself to shut down and just.. Not have to think about anything. Curiously, he’d lost the ability not long after he met Quinn. It didn’t take long for his every free thought to lead to her. He was suffering from it now, thinking about how she was so close to death. It’s not as if death and danger were uncommon things in the wasteland, but it became something to fear again once Quinn was part of his life. He hadn’t carried this fear when he was with Lucy; he was naive and young enough to never think she’d die. He’d protect her, always.

MacCready scoffed at himself. He failed in keeping Lucy alive and it was something he knew would haunt him until the end of his days. Her death was a ghost that lingered just behind his shoulder. It was why he had to leave Quinn. Somehow, somewhere along the way he’d fallen in love with her and he couldn’t stay- not at the risk of losing her like he lost his wife. The best thing for both of them would be for him to bury the feelings he’d unearthed again. 

It hurt now, but it would get better, right?

One day he could stop loving her like he did, right?

“Hey,” Quinn’s tired voice brought him back out of the depths of his thoughts, the last thing he saw behind his closed eyes was the terrified face of Lucy.

He watched her shift around sluggishly, bringing herself to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. She rubbed at her shoulder, cringing at the congealed blood that came off onto her palm.

“Ew,” Quinn wiped her hand off on the front of her shirt, closing her eyes to get her bearings again. 

MacCready resisted the urge to run his fingers through her hair, “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Quinn nodded and rolled her shoulder, wincing at the stiffness.

He nodded, looking away from her and idly staring at the wall across from them, “Good.”

“RJ,” Quinn was chewing on her bottom lip, trying to pick her next words carefully, “I… heard you talking to Hancock last week.”

MacCready’s heart skipped a beat, “Oh?”

“You know, where you got that shiner from,” She pointed to the right side of his face, at where the black eye he’d gotten from a furious Hancock had nearly faded completely. He’d said he got it out on the road during a settlement run which, now that he thought about it, Quinn looked questionable of that fact as he told Preston. 

Here we go..

MacCready knew he had to tell Quinn; she deserved that much. Besides, he promised her he would eventually. He supposed that promise wasn’t void because they weren’t… together, anymore.

He didn’t know where to start, or how to tell her exactly why what he was about to say mattered, so he spoke freely from his mind, “I met Lucy shortly after I left Little Lamplight, while I was working a job. We got married not long after that, and then we had Duncan.”

Pausing to fish his cigarettes from his duster, he lit one, “Life in Little Lamplight was hard, and adjusting to the Capital Wasteland was harder- but then I was building a family. A year after I came to the surface, Duncan was born. I went from entirely alone to having a wife and becoming a dad.”

Quinn remained silent, listening to him intently. He took a second to admire the way she’d always listen to people when they spoke, as if she didn’t want to miss a thing and let them know she was really listening. It was a stark contrast to her absolute lack of willingness to listen to _anyone_ once she had something decided in her mind- like when she was dead set on beginning the hunt for the Railroad. 

Kind, stubborn girl.

Exhaling smoke, MacCready looked down at his lap, “We were heading back to the farm after selling some of the crops at the market in a nearby city when Lucy couldn’t walk anymore. She was still having trouble finding her normal after giving birth to Duncan- but she insisted she come to the city with me so she could get away from the farm for a bit and she wanted Duncan to see more of the world.”

“Duncan was only months old at the time,” MacCready chuckled sadly, “I couldn’t say no to her. Never could. Anyways… We made the mistake of holing up in a metro station that night.” 

His chest was tight, the wave of sadness he knew would come sooner or later washing over him, “We didn’t know it was infested with ferals.”

MacCready didn’t look at her, but he could hear Quinn whisper under her breath, “Oh, no…”

He took another long exhale of his cigarette, his lungs emptying out smoke rather than his urge to scream, “They were on her before I could fire a shot. They... ripped her apart right in front of me. There was nothing I could do.”

There was nothing he could do because he failed her.

“It took everything I had to escape with Duncan in my arms,” MacCready’s words continued to spill out, powerless to stop what he said next, “I found it, Quinn. Happiness in a miserable existence. I found Lucy and I loved her and then she died.”

He managed not to cry- not that he wasn’t dangerously close. Looking back to Quinn, his heart sunk even lower; her eyes were shimmering with tears. Neither of them said anything, only looking into one another’s eyes. She wanted to speak, he could see it in the way her lips moved. He wanted to, as well.

He loved her. He loved her. Goddamnit he loved her.

Unexpectedly, Quinn leaned up and captured his mouth with her own. He didn’t hesitate to lean in, returning the kiss without the ability to even think to stop himself. Her lips were softer than he remembered, moving with growing fervor. MacCready’s sullen thoughts were fading behind the distraction of her warmth next to him. Quinn held his face in her hands, kissing him with a desperation that had his breathing picking up. His descent into a place he wouldn’t be able to pull himself out of stopped when he noticed that his cheeks were warm and wet. Opening his eyes, he broke their kiss and leaned back to look at Quinn. She was looking at him with tears streaming down her face, her shoulders trembling with the need to sob. Trailing her thumbs down his cheeks, she allowed herself to look deep into his eyes.

She didn’t have to say anything, because she was speaking with her actions. Quinn finally understood why their path ended up this way. She was sad for him and for the death of Lucy, but he could see that she was even sadder for them. Once more, she leaned up and kissed him briefly, her attempt at a small smile the last thing he saw on her face before she got up from the bed and walked out of the bedroom.

MacCready sat there with the spent cigarette still burning between his fingers, looking out after Quinn with the last of her warmth leaving his lips.


	44. DEAR READERS

Hey, everyone! Since you've all been amazing about my story and have fallen in love with the adventures of Quinn and Mac as much as I have, I figured it would only be fair to let you all know my updates won't be on a schedule for the next while; my mental health has been pretty bad and I'm currently on a bit of a work leave to get myself back together. I've been sitting in front of my laptop on and off and I can't manage to get my brain together or write a single word down.

I'm not even remotely abandoning the story and I'm still going to be actively trying to write, I just realize the reality of my situation currently and know I can't promise regular updates. I'm more excited than ever to keep it going, but I also want to make sure I'm putting out my best work for you all and focusing on my own health.

Thank you so much for all your support- how crazy is it that There You are is at novel length and I've only been writing since December? The kudos, and kind comments are what had me motivated to keep going. 

Now, at the risk of sounding like a YouTuber- subscribe or bookmark and you'll know ASAP when my unmotivated ass is back.

Thanks again, really. <3

-Shay


	45. Smooth Talker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short moment placed in the story I did to dust off my keyboard and get back to writing after my long hiatus! I'll be working on a full chapter shortly. I hope this doesn't seem too rusty. X_X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone!
> 
> I want to start this by saying thank you SO much for all of your support, your concern and your patience. It was a tough little while with my depression, but I managed to climb my way out. I've gotten my medication adjusted and supplemented, spent time working on myself, updated and changed around my condo to make it more cozy and comfortable and survived Mother's Day (an incredibly tough day since I lost my mom) and I feel like I actually feel really... good. Genuinely good. 
> 
> Anyways, this story means so much to me. It's the longest running story I've written (I am TERRIBLE at seeing stories through- I literally never have for anything more than a short story) so getting this far makes me feel great. I was extremely stressed at the idea of going on hiatus, afraid to disappoint anyone and ya'll made me feel so much better. Thank you. Truly. <3

“You ready for a Hancock approved night, doll?”

Quinn groaned, already feeling the impending hangover just thinking about it. A night of drinking that involved her favourite ghoul _always_ meant a mean headache the next day, “How much Med-X you got?”

He laughed, winking at her, “Enough to share, don’t you worry. It’s like I keep telling ya’: the mayor takes care of his people.”

Hancock was slouched comfortably on Quinn’s ratty red couch while she laid across it, her legs resting over his lap. They’d spent the entirety of the morning and part of the afternoon lazing around and talking about whatever they could think about- mostly about the bonfire Sanctuary was having that night. Everyone had been working hard at making the settlement the amazing home it’d become and it was high time for them to have a night off. 

“John, you’re not the mayor of Sanctuary,” Quinn tucked her hands under her head.

“Hey now,” He rested his hand on her thigh and gave it a squeeze, “You’re my people no matter where we are, doll.”

Quinn smiled brightly up at him, shaking her head, “Shmoozer.”

Hancock looked bewildered, but then he grinned, “I have no idea what that is, but I like the sound of it.”

“It means, like… a smooth talker. Silver tongued or what have you.”

“Hmmm,” He rubbed at his chin in thought, then lowering his voice to speak mock-seductively, “Ain’t much smooth about me, doll.”

It took her a second to understand exactly what he meant by that, Quinn covered her face to hide how red she’d gotten, “John!”

“What?” Hancock acted as if she had no idea what he was shocked at, having troubles keeping his face neutral, “Just sayin’. The ladies love it!”

“I mean,” Quinn sat up, tapping her fingers against her chin, “Obviously they do. In my time at Goodneighbour, I’m preeeeeeetty sure I saw you with a different girl every other day. You’re kinda slutty.”

Hancock chuckled through his hands as he lit a cigarette, “And fucking proud. I gotta take advantage of my sexy, king of the zombies look.”

“Hmm,” Quinn mused, it dawning rather heavily on her that she really did agree. Not for even a moment did she find herself scared of or repulsed by Hancock, despite him being the first non-feral ghoul she’d met- though she had to admit she hadn’t put much thought into how attractive she found him, his swagger and his confidence. "Sexy, king of the zombies" was an apt description of the mayor. 

Hancock tilted his head back and blew out smoke with a laugh, “Oh, come on, doll. I know you got a big heart in there, but you don’t gotta lie.”

“Hey!” Quinn swatted at the brim of his hat, narrowing her eyes at him, “I’m not!”

He was grinning at her, making it no secret that he was yanking her chain and fishing for her thoughts, “There ain’t no goddamn way a foxy thing like you would think that.”

“Pfft,” She huffed, waving through another cloud of smoke he let out, “What’s what I look like got to do with it?”

“You’re telling me,” He pressed his hand to her thigh again, leaning forward to snuff his cigarette out in the ashtray on her coffee table, “That you’d be willing to wake up to this mug every morning?”

Quinn blinked a few times, her mind questioning if this was their standard banter or if.. Were they flirting? 

Trying to save face and hoping he didn’t notice her stutter, she laughed and pushed him on his shoulder, “Well, like… not _every_ morning. Jesus Christ, John. You’re a clinger.”

Without missing a beat, Hancock winked at her, “Only to you, doll.”

Quinn was putting in some serious thought about what was going on between them, knowing that the air felt different. Since the day they’d met, he’d been a charmer, but he was that way with every woman and playfully flirting had become a part of their friendly dynamic. Hancock wasn’t generally someone who made her blush, and yet..

Things had gotten very strange since the day MacCready took off and she hadn’t allowed herself to think much on it. Between Danse and Hancock, Quinn was feeling _something_ \- not that she had any idea what that was. Her and Danse had grown close after he found out about who he was, and if she were being totally honest with herself, there was a faint spark she’d felt when she spent those handful of days in Goodneighbour with Hancock. Was this a weird symptom of being broken-hearted?

A warm hand on her hip brought her back down to earth from her ever-confusing thoughts and she focused back on Hancock and her legs tensed briefly across his lap. He let out a husky chuckle, amused, “Hi.”

“Hi. Sorry, there’s always too much going on in my head,” Quinn slid a hand behind her neck, scratching the back of her neck.

Hancock’s hand rounded her waist and rested against the small of her back, his rough digits moving over the exposed skin under the hem of her shirt, “Cap for your thoughts?”

“Oh, well,” She laughed nervously, inwardly groaning at herself for how awkward she was probably coming off as, “I don’t know, just..”

“What?” Hancock leaned in, pulling her in closer. He was looking at her in a way she’d never seen before, her mouth opening and closing numerous times as she failed to find something to say.

Quinn was thrown off completely, wondering if he could manage to hear how hard her heart was beating. His hand moved down from her back and under her ass, scooping her into his lap with that good ole’ Hancock smirk plastered on his face.

Holy shit.

“You’re too quiet, doll,” His voice had lowered to a purr, one hand still grasping her ass and the other slipping between her legs, “How bout I change that, huh?”

Double holy shit.

She squirmed a little in his lap, the way she tensed where her thighs met leaving her with a slowly building need for more, “Uh huh..”

Whether or not she should put more thought into what she was getting herself into became moot when his hand cupped her through the sleep shorts she was wearing, his thumb pushing against the material to press to her clit. A breath caught in her throat and she wrapped her left arm around the back of his neck to anchor herself; she already felt unsteady.

“You’re already soaked,” Hancock chuckled and continued to palm between her legs, the thumb against her clit adding pressure slowly. Her breathing was picking up and she bit her bottom lip as she mewled, her hips beginning to rock with his hand, “There we go. That’s more like it.”

The way he spoke alone was enough to make her tremble, the confidence in his voice doing all kinds of things to her, “J-John..?”

“Hmm?” He sounded preoccupied, watching his hand while he continued to tease her through her shorts.

The sound of Sturges and that damn hammer distracted her from the ghoul under her and she looked over her shoulder to narrow her eyes towards the doorway. But instead of the other half of her living room, she found herself looking at Dogmeat sleeping heavily next to her, his giant paws tucked under his snout. Blinking, she turned her head back around and saw the gentle blue glow of Danse's holotags on her night stand- not the smirking face of John Hancock. 

Rolling on to her back, Quinn stared up at the ceiling in the darkness, her mind replaying what she’d just dreamed about and tiptoeing around the ache between her legs, “Well, that’s…new.”


	46. AUTHOR’S NOTE

Hey everyone!

So I’ve come to a difficult decision and I hope you’re not all too disappointed. I’ve gotten to a point in my story where I’ve developed better ideas for earlier chapters and things that would need to be sewed into the story much earlier (ie Hancock feels and Danse). The story wasn’t initially meant to be nearly as long and deep as it has become and I’m starting to feel written into a corner despite having a road I wanted to follow. Plus I feel like I found my voice as a writer about half way and am not happy with my earlier chapters. 

So I’ve decided I’ll be starting over. The story will have longer chapters (especially in the beginning), more details, richer world building etc. 

I’m not abandoning my story, at all. I think doing this will help light a fire under my butt again to write more consistently. A lot has been going on in my life and since I stopped writing it’s been SO hard trying to get back into the swing of things. 

I truly hope you’ll all be willing to continue with me on this journey and read the new and improved There You Are. Same story, but better. This is my love letter to Fallout and I want it to be the absolute best it can be. 

I hope you understand. The support you guys give me has been incredible. Thank you for everything. I’ll post again when I have a link for the new story. 

Love, 

Shay.


	47. Another Update

I hope you didn’t think I forgot about you all!

Life’s just been a lot lately, and I’m now currently on an indefinite leave from work to work on my mental health. 

Having said that, I’ve been actively writing up the outline and contemplating things for my rewrite and will be starting the actual writing process likely later today! 

I’m sorry if I made any of you think this story died; it’s just getting started. 

Love you guys!


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